


Under The Ministry's Watchful Gaze

by Mersheeple



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awful Matches, Crack, F/M, Humour, The Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter) is Terrible, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:36:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 24,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28776927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersheeple/pseuds/Mersheeple
Summary: Severus Snape has been informed by the Ministry that something big is coming. A fate worse than any other he knew. Severus Snape was going to have to take a wife. And the Ministry were going to choose for him.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 214
Kudos: 310
Collections: Snape Bigbang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

The War had ended, not with an explosion or a powerful battle as they had expected, but with a flicker and a sputter and a whimper. Tom Riddle had fallen to the floor, impotent and inert and the Death Eaters had scattered to the wind, rounded up and captured over a very brief week of fights. Harry Potter had chosen not to continue the fight, choosing instead to smile sadly and walk back to the Great Hall, his hands and his face dirty, his heart full of love for the people he had fought beside and the ones they had lost. Ronald Weasley had walked back to the Great Hall to share his family’s grief and to weep.

And Hermione Granger? Well, she had sighed and nodded her head at many people and murmured something about places to be, people to see. She had disappeared from their sight and wandered off, crossing the castle grounds to where a once mighty tree stood, cracked almost entirely through the middle but still, strangely, a solid sentinel over the entrance to a place she never wanted to go again. She squeezed through the gap, glad to be the only one following the route. The gap would never be large enough for either of the boys to fit through. And, she rather thought, she wanted to make this journey alone.

She pushed the trapdoor up and was assaulted by the coppery smell of spilled blood. She swore, pulling herself through the door and groaned, the smell making bile rise in her throat. She walked into the room where they had seen him die and pulled a bowl and a flannel from her beaded bag as she pulled it from the belt loop on her jeans. She filled the bowl with water and added a few drops of Dittany, wetting the face cloth with the mixture and leaning forward to clean the muck and blood from his skin. She watched as the skin knit together, closing with a hiss and a pop. His eyes snapped open and she looked in shock as his mouth opened and he began to scream in pain. It lasted only moments but echoed around the whole shack as he passed out.

Severus Snape had done the one thing no one expected. He had survived the War. And he had done so with no help from anyone. For even Miss Granger’s abilities did not extend to raising the dead.


	2. Chapter 2

The letter that came through the letterbox and landed on the doormat at Spinner’s End was made of cream parchment and written in a deep, rich blue ink that flashed and glimmered in the lamplight. It was too late in the evening to be from Minerva, too early to be from Hermione and too…blue to be from The Ministry of Magic. He recognised the writing, however, and picked it up with a sigh. A letter from Draco Malfoy at this time of night could only be bad news.

Severus walked into the kitchen and started the kettle boiling. He picked a teabag, seemingly at random, from one of his numerous tins and dropped it into the slightly battered old cup he had in his cupboards. Who needed new cups when the old ones would do just as well? The smell of cardamom permeated the air as he poured the water over the Masala Chai Tea Bag and he smiled to himself, allowing the undernotes of Ginger and Cinnamon to soothe his harried mind as he picked the letter up from the work surface. He stopped, shaking his head as he walked into the small lounge in the front of the house. He shivered as he entered the room, waving his hand to cast a warming charm before an Incendio headed towards the grate, lighting the room with a flickering yellow light.

He sat in the wing-back chair, turned it slightly towards the fire and placed his cup on the small table at his elbow. He opened the envelope, sighing heavily as the three-page missive slid out of the envelope easily, a sure sign of quality. Not Ministry information then.

Draco Malfoy had been given a low-level Ministry job to work as penance for his collusion with the Death Eaters. He had been allowed to finish his education and then been told he had to work three years in the Ministry Archives, filing and doing general busy work. It was nothing exciting, but it was honest work. After the three years was over, Draco had asked to continue the same job. He had found that the job was easy and allowed him to keep his fingers on the pulse. Occasionally, Draco showed his Slytherin qualities and would copy a file here, a letter there, a communication from one Ministry official to another, to send to Severus. Most were hints of new laws or the occasional information on where a Death Eater may be hiding. Severus frowned, opening the communiqué and settling in to read.

_Severus, I hope this missive finds you well. I have been hearing a lot of chatter lately, but today this message has confirmed it. I suggest you run but, what do I know? Perhaps this is exactly what you had planned in your life. If, on the other hand, you had planned to never have a new Master, or in this case Mistress, then perhaps you should run before they have a chance to get this new law through the Wizengamot. Take care of yourself and I shall stay safe and unknown, D. Malfoy._

Severus turned to the second piece of paper and his skin paled. His eyes widened and he groaned low in his throat, desperately hoping that what he had just read was not the full story. The memo was from the office of the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, to the Head of the Love Room, Kerra Ede.

_Kerra, your research in these matters has been invaluable. The Law is drafted and due to be discussed on the 19th of December. With all luck on our side, the Valentine’s Law will be fully in effect on the 14th of February, as originally suggested. Assuming that the Infatuation Equation is accurate, every Witch or Wizard should have six matches, with a fixed match percentage between 90% and 100%. We have run some tests, and this seems to be enough for the relationships to work and last._   
_The plan, as discussed, is to give 12 months for a match to be made. Further research is needed to determine date types for the mandated dates. You have until the 1st of January to make the list of appropriate dates._   
_Congratulations on the accuracy of the IE. This is your greatest work yet. Kingsley M. Shacklebolt._

Severus sucked in a breath through his mouth. A Marriage Law? Enforced procreation? What the hell were the Ministry thinking? He turned to the final page, wondering if there was any chance it would contain the exact wording of the Law, or at least, close to it. He scanned it once, smiling grimly before he read it again thoroughly.

_Each Witch or Wizard between the ages of 21 and 50 will have one (1) year from the receipt of their first letter to become engaged to a Witch or Wizard of their choosing. If they are unsuccessful, a Witch or Wizard will be assigned to them. Once engaged or married, the Witch or Wizard is not expected to conform to any rules until such time as they are no longer married._   
_After one year of marriage, a stipend will be provided to the married couple totalling 240 Galleons, 16 Sickles, 11 Knuts. Henceforth, a further payment of 20 Galleons, 1 Sickle, 10 Knuts will be deposited into the **joint/Married** account of the couple._   
_For each child that is born in wedlock to the couple, a payment of 1005 Galleons will be paid on their first instance of Accidental Magic. For all non-magical children, a payment of 1 Galleon, 1 Sickle, 21 Knuts will be paid per month until their sixteenth birthday._

Severus stared in disbelief at the paperwork, the Ministry Seal evidence that this Law was signed, sealed and approved by the Minister for Magic. Regardless of what he wanted, it seemed Severus Snape was about to find a wife. Or else.


	3. Chapter 3

There had been a lot of press coverage about today. Today was the day that the Infatuation Equation was expected to be run to match all single Wizards and Witches with their 90%-ish matches. Severus Snape was waiting with bated breath. He had received the questionnaire two weeks before the law was due to come into effect. Now that day had come, and Severus was strangely nervous. The questions had been utterly inane but, with a carefully considered spell, he had copied the inquiry form and had spent the last two weeks rehashing his answers and wondering if they were accurate.

Yes, his name was definitely Severus Snape. Yes, he was definitely born on the 9th of January 1960. The paper had calculated his age in days accurately, he had triple checked. His affiliation during the War had caused him a small amount of disquiet, however he had written “Spy for the Light” and the paper, imbued with some form of Truth Enchantment, had accepted his answer, for which he was more than grateful. His height, weight, hair and eye colour had been answered mostly accurately (he may have rounded up on his height and weight). He was, after all, 43 years old. He was bound to have shrunk slightly. And he had fought through a war and lost a lot of weight while healing, weight he had not yet completely put back on. The fact that he had been asked his Gender and his Sexual Orientation had pleasantly surprised him. It assured him that the Ministry was moving on, progressing, however slow it may be. Before the options would have been “Male” or “Female”. Now the boxes were empty, offering space for one to write their own answer. 

Then had come the more difficult questions. The “On a scale of 1 to 5…” questions. “How attractive are you?” That was easy. He was a solid three. “How important is how your partner looks to you?” Again, fairly easy. That was a two. Not important at all but if the Ministry were going to mess with his nice, quiet life, he was damned if he was going to settle for just anyone. “How healthy are you?” The Ministry were so very vague. Mentally? Physically? Financially? Were they asking about his sexual appetites? He settled, eventually, for a three. Everything in the middle seemed to be his motto.

Then the essay style questions. “Describe your perfect partner.” He had sidestepped that question neatly. Female, intelligent, able to hold a conversation. That was all he really required. “Describe your perfect date.” Dinner and conversation. Next. “What is your worst quality?” He had pondered long and hard over that one, trying to decide on just one quality that could be considered his “worst”. He had eventually answered that his worst quality was his ability to get so involved with one project that he ignored everyone and everything else, including food, drink and his health.

Finally, the last question had hurt him to think about. “Have you ever been in love before and if so, with whom and why did it end?” He had stared and stared at that question. He had walked away and come back three, four, five times. Eventually he had faced his demons and written his longest answer yet.  
 _No, I have never been truly in love. I have believed myself in love once, for more than twenty years, but since the end of the War I have realised that what I felt was true love at the time was a safety net, a fallacy I let myself believe in order to belong. Three things are guaranteed in life; we are born, we will die, and we will try to love someone. Love is not a guarantee, but it is a hope. She gave me hope for better things and thus I assumed what I felt was love._

He had hated that answer, feeling it probably left him vulnerable and open to mockery. But he had heard nothing more on the subject after he had signed his name at the bottom and watched as the official copy had rolled itself up and vanished with a tiny pop. He had read and reread his answers over and over again until he had felt sick and dizzy with nerves. A soft noise from the kitchen had him leaping out of his chair and being thankful that his house was small, and he did not have far to go.

The noise, he came to realise, was an incredibly surprised looking Short-eared Owl holding a missive from the Ministry. He knew it was from the Ministry because of the metallic purple sealing wax he could see holding the scroll together. Kingsley had decided that he would change the colour of the wax the Ministry used in order to make sure that people knew who the letters had come from. The colour was exclusive to the Ministry and known as King’s Folly, a name that was not lost on Kingsley. Severus opened the window and the owl stepped in, holding out its leg. He took the missive and handed the owl a small pellet treat before the owl flew away.

Severus took the letter into the lounge, sitting heavily as he assessed the length of the scroll. Perhaps he was not going to be lucky enough to have six matches. The scroll looked far too short to contain six names. He would be surprised if it contained two. There would be the usual bluster and bumf from the Ministry and then the names. He unrolled the scroll, reading from the parchment with a sigh.

_Dear **Severus Snape** , Congratulations on being matched with **SIX (6)** potential partners! In order to give you the best chance of creating a perfect love match, your first date with any potential partner will be pre-arranged for you and you will only be given **ONE (1)** name at a time, on the day of the date._   
_Your first date will occur on the **17th February 2003 at 7pm**._

_He had three days to prepare. Or rather, three days to panic and wonder who the Ministry had set him up with first._


	4. Chapter 4

It was two hours before he was due to meet his date and he _still_ did not know who she was. He wondered if it was because she had seen his name on her parchment and run to the continent screaming and they were scrabbling to find someone else for him to date. Was that even possible? Or perhaps she had refused him outright another way. There must be a way for it to happen, a get out clause, something. He sighed, heading towards the shower to prepare for his date, just on the off chance it was still going to go ahead. A loud beeping alarm from the living room caught his attention and he noticed that the parchment was glowing blue. His date’s name must have appeared. He sighed with relief. Not rejected yet then. Hopefully, the venue would also have shown up so he would know what to wear. He moved to the parchment and picked it up.

_Your first date will be with **Violet Estelle Parkinson (formerly Burke)** at **The Emerald Dragon**._

Severus rolled his eyes. The first date was with Vi? Oh, this would not be interesting. Violet Burke was mother to his former student Pansy, currently still hated and vilified by many after her attempt to throw Potter to the wolves, in spite of the fact that Harry Potter and the rest of the Golden Trio had offered a statement of forgiveness within six months of the end of the War. Violet was also ten years older than him and formerly married to one of his compatriots in the Death Eaters, Pelagius Parkinson. The woman was dark haired, dark eyed and fairly attractive. She, like her daughter, had a slightly pug-like quality and, the last time he had seen her, a passion for inappropriately tight clothing.

The Emerald Dragon, however, was a very well-critiqued restaurant and had received the only five-star review ever given by Horatio Langfellow, the incredibly difficult to please food critic for the Daily Prophet. It served mostly luxury Asian fare and was just outside of London, hidden between several of the larger Muggle restaurants. It was almost impossible to get a table. Severus assumed that the Ministry had booked the whole restaurant. He hoped beyond hope that he could remember what to wear and how to act on a first date.

He moved back to the hallway and rolled his neck, heading up the stairs to the only other rooms in his small, beaten up house. Originally two bedrooms with an additional outhouse out the back that held the toilet, he had adjusted the rooms carefully to now be a large master bedroom and a bathroom with a luxurious tub, separate shower and, luxury of luxuries, an indoor toilet. He stood surrounded by black and grey tiles, the chrome fittings adding a touch of class and decided that a shower was more efficient. He started the water with a flick of his wrist and smiled as it reached peak temperature in moments. The quality of the electric shower always made him smile. He stripped himself of his casual clothing, the loungewear he had spent a small amount of money on making its way to the laundry basket.

He stepped under the heated spray and groaned in pleasure as the hot water easily soothed his muscles. The heat was just slightly too much for him, stinging his skin, especially the scars on his neck and back. The scars on his neck were a constant reminder of the attack that almost took his life, the ones on his back a reminder of how few people would have cared, back then at least, if the Dark Lord had been successful in killing him. They were thick and ropey, scars from the whips of the Ignis Flagellum spell that Tom Riddle had so favoured for a punishment. He grabbed the shower gel, refusing to be maudlin as he soaped himself up, staring straight ahead and desperately refusing to look at his body. He hated that he was still so skinny, in spite of eating at least two good meals (and sometimes two not so good meals) every day. Still, he was what he was. His hand stroked his chest, the hair catching the bubbles from the shower gel and lathering up nicely. He smelled the Bergamot and Sage undertones and smiled.

Having washed his hair with a similar, but less pungent, scent he realised that he was beginning to smell a bit like Potions ingredients. With a soft chuckle, he rinsed himself off and switched off the shower, grabbing a towel to place around his waist. He had plenty of time and so chose not to use a drying charm on his hair, instead heading to the bedroom and towelling himself off vigorously. He rubbed his hair dry and headed towards the wardrobe, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the door. He swore and made his way back into the bathroom, his towel abandoned on the floor.

He glanced in the mirror over his sink and smiled grimly. His face was a lot uglier than he was used to seeing. Somehow, he had neglected his shaving habits and his personal grooming for a lot longer than he had realised. His face was patchy with stubble and hair in various lengths and he grabbed a simple razor from the medicine cabinet. He ran a hot bowl of water and coated his cheeks in the thick white mousse of shaving foam. He deftly removed all the stubble, long hairs and general poor hair growth along his chin, jaw and cheeks and then glared at his eyebrows as he pulled a pair of tweezers from the cabinet. He leaned in closer and began to shape his eyebrows properly. As he had got older they had begun to get unruly and it meant his patented eyebrow arch looked more like a caterpillar doing a Mexican Wave on his face.

Once he had primped and preened a little bit longer, he added a splash of aftershave, strangely the same one he had been using for fifteen years, Davidoff Cool Water. He had changed from his previous aftershave, Aqua Velva, when a certain Mr Charles Weasley had come to class absolutely _reeking_ of the stuff. Severus did not use aftershave often, but he had destroyed the remaining two thirds of the bottle almost immediately and had bought his new aftershave the following weekend. He still had almost a quarter of the original bottle left. Would it class as Vintage soon? 1988 Davidoff Cool Water. It was getting close…

He moved back to the bedroom and took a breath, looking at himself in the mirror. Passable. Everything was much better after he had tidied himself up a bit. He selected his underwear with a perfunctory glance; no holes, no stains, no marks, they would do. He opened his wardrobe door with a negligent wave of his hand as he pulled his thick woollen socks on. He glanced at the clothes hanging in the wardrobe and tried to decide.

He had mostly stuck with similar clothes to those he had worn in his darker days. They felt more him somehow. He still preferred his trousers tapered, his shirts crisp and plain white and his frock coats to have a billowing effect but he had expanded his wardrobe. He now owned clothes that were not black. They were still dark; he liked the effect of the dark colours contrasting with the crisp white of his shirt. But they were not black. His hand hovered over a deep Brunswick green and he wondered if, perhaps, it was too much of a nod to his Slytherin affiliations. He frowned and decided not to be concerned with that anymore. The woman, any of the women he saw, would know he was a Slytherin. What did he care?

His clothes picked out, he slowly dressed, keeping one eye on the permanent Tempus he had anchored to the house wards. With just over ten minutes to spare, he was fully dressed in Brunswick green trousers and frock coat with a white shirt and green cravat with a black fleur de lis motif. He felt confident and comfortable as he slipped into a pair of dragonhide boots before heading into the front room and picking up the parchment from the Ministry. He watched a countdown start and then took a breath as it reached two.

The parchment landed on the floor, no longer held in his hand, as he disappeared off to The Emerald Dragon for a date with a woman who could potentially be his future wife.


	5. Chapter 5

Severus arrived at The Emerald Dragon with a quiet pop and was instantly greeted by a woman in traditional Japanese dress, an Emerald Green Homongi Kimono with a Gold Dragon embroidered on the back right shoulder and front left sleeve. Her name badge identified her as Izumi, and she smiled at him as she waved him through into the restaurant. He nodded his head in a half bow and proceeded into the Restaurant.

Severus looked around the restaurant and spotted his date. She had improved somewhat with age, her skin gaining a tan and a healthy glow, her body filling out a little more so she was no longer stick thin, her eyes still dark, her hair now shot through with silver, much like his. She was standing at the side of one of the tables, obviously only having just arrived herself. She was wearing a very pretty black dress with a silver lace pattern on the skirt and he appreciated the look a little more than he had expected. She turned and looked at him then and he noticed the deep V in the front of the dress. _Oh. Well. That was interesting._ She smiled slightly and nodded to him as he walked towards her.

“Violet, a pleasure as always.” He bowed to her, taking her hand and kissing the air above it gently.

“Severus, you are looking…more colourful.” She smiled at him, but he saw the glint of something vicious in her eyes and he knew. This woman was not going to be his wife. He waited for her to sit down and took his own seat, plucking the menu from the table with a sigh of satisfaction. He looked over the menu, trying to decide what he was going to enjoy as she stared at him with a frown.

“Violet, are you already so well versed in Japanese culture that you know what you are going to order?” He raised an eyebrow at her and she scowled at his impudence. She picked up a menu and glared at it as if it had personally insulted her. He glanced over his menu at her and wondered what to say. This should not be so awkward. They knew each other. Perhaps if he tried to start a conversation with her, it would be better.

“So, Violet, how have you been?” He smiled with closed lips, hiding his teeth from her view and she rolled her eyes.

“My husband, the only man I have ever loved, was killed during the Battle of Hogwarts. My daughter, in trying to stop people from dying, has been ostracised and treated as a pariah. Because of my husband’s reckless and, frankly ridiculous, ideas and ideals, most of the money from my family has been taken, sorry, confiscated, by the very Ministry that we were trying to continue supporting. How do you think I have been, Snape?” She spat her answer at him with more bile than he had heard in almost five years.

“My apologies, Madam, for asking a general question. What are you having for dinner at the expense of the Ministry?” His eyebrow quirked as she sighed, glancing down at her menu.

“I am leaning towards the Wild Pink Shrimp tempura with anticucho mayo, pak choi, sesame and ginger soy and an order of green fried brown rice. And yourself, Severus?” He took the use of his name as an olive branch and inclined his head in understanding. Life had been like this for him, ever since he had been introduced to Pureblood circles by Lucius Malfoy and his then fiancé, Narcissa Black.

“I’m leaning towards the wok fried Szechuan beef, dou ban jiang, Chinese chillis, Szechuan peppercorns, peanuts and pepper with the steamed jasmine rice. I might as well splurge if it isn’t my Sickle.” Severus made an attempt at flirting and winked at her. She smiled slightly and, as their waiter arrived, she turned and placed their order. The waiter, a young man in traditional black Hakama and Kataginu with a badge that named him as Takumi, bowed to them both and left them in silence. Severus felt uncomfortable and shifted on his seat, a move that harkened back to his youth and that he had thought he had trained out of his system. Apparently not.

“So, Severus, what are you doing with yourself these days? I’m assuming you never returned to Hogwarts?” Violet’s voice broke through his thoughts and he smirked at the idea he would voluntarily go back to the scene of his nightmares.

“I’m mostly independent now actually. I work with Potions, of course, mostly experimenting with or making new Potions for St Mungo’s. I also have the money from the Order of Merlin and all my previous work. I do not have to work. I choose to so that my skills do not atrophy. Occasionally, I will consult on Potions cases for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or work with the Ministry or Hogwarts to restock their supplies of Potions.” He smiled at her very briefly and he noticed that she did not smile back. The waiter brought over their drinks, a glass of sparkling water for her and a bottle of Muscat Berry juice, known as Yamagata, for himself. He had chosen to embrace the experience as much as he possibly could, seeing as it was unlikely he would ever eat in this restaurant again.

“So, you are still working? I’m assuming then that you would be away from home at all hours of the day?” She sucked her teeth, as if she were trying to get something out from between them. It made him grimace to himself and she rolled her eyes.

“Yes Madam, I would have to work and potentially be away often. Not just for brewing but also for collecting ingredients and consulting.” Severus lifted an eyebrow, a half-smile curving his lips at the waiter as he placed their meals in front of them. He took a sip of his drink and then wished he hadn’t.

“Speaking plainly, Sir, while I do not wish to marry any man, if I am to marry I do not wish to marry a man who leaves me alone and is only interested in conjugal visits, be they in prison or in a laboratory.” Severus spluttered and coughed, his drink going down the wrong was as he attempted to inhale his drink and drown himself at the idea of anything…conjugal with this woman. Dear Merlin, he had known her husband and, thanks to the rather _open_ nature of the Revels, he knew where he had been. Pelagius Parkinson had enjoyed younger women. Especially younger women with sordid pasts. Merlin only knew how many bugs, creepy crawlies and otherwise noxious and vile pustules resided in Violet Parkinson’s underwear.


	6. Chapter 6

Severus awoke with a mouth that tasted like something had crawled inside and died, a head that had its own marching band and a twinge in his back that reminded him quite forcibly that he was definitely not in his twenties any more. He closed his eyes against the harsh light streaming through his window and groaned. He fumbled under his pillow for his wand, an old habit that he had not managed to shift and waved it in the general direction of his Hangover Potions. The wordless Accio could have been wandless too if he had only decided not to drink after he arrived home from his first disastrous date.

After Violet’s hideous comment about conjugal relations, and Severus’s unfortunate inability to disguise the shudder that ran through him at the idea of said relations, the evening had deteriorated quite rapidly. She had, for obvious reasons, been offended by his lack of tact and had, whether rightly or wrongly he could not say, attacked his own failings in such a way as to suggest that someone who looked like him should be pleased she was willing to sleep with him at all.

His temper, much muted since the end of the War, had got the better of him. He had thrown his napkin on top of the food, stood and given her an imperious bow, before turning and walking away. He had a vague memory of drinking and vomiting and then crawling through his door at a ridiculous hour. He clearly remembered pulling himself upright and then he had marched straight into his kitchen, thinking that perhaps he could calm down with some tea, when he had spied a bottle of something more than a little stronger. Firewhiskey. Most especially a bottle of well-aged Firewhiskey that Minerva had bought him as an _I’m so glad you are alive and sorry I thought you were a gigantic arse_ present. He had refused to drink it because, well, mainly because he _was_ a gigantic arse. That night though? That night, he had needed something more than tea and a couple of shortbread biscuits.

Severus groaned as it all came rushing back to him as he poured the foul-tasting concoction into his mouth and swallowed as quickly as he could. The taste of Hangover Potion was vile, and he shuddered. It served him right, of course, drinking so much the night before but he felt it was more than deserved. He sat up in the bed glancing at the second half just to confirm he had not done anything stupid, like he usually did on the rare occasions he drank, and was thankful that he was alone in the bed, with no obvious signs that there had been anyone else there at any time. That was always good to know.

There was a tapping on the window of his bedroom and Severus groaned, looking over to where he had forgotten to draw the curtains the night before. An owl with a fairly dark plumage and golden eyes stared at him balefully and he unwillingly got out of bed, his feet hitting the floorboards with a soft slap and reminding him of how cold his home got. He wordlessly and wandlessly cast a warming charm before walking to the window to let the owl deliver its missive. He assumed, correctly, that it was from the Ministry and he plucked it from the owl’s talons without allowing the bird access to his home. It screeched unbecomingly and he shut the window straight in its face. He broke the seal on the scroll and unrolled the parchment. The voice of a Ministry employee, obviously chosen for her enunciation and not necessarily anything else, echoed around his room.

“Mr Severus Snape, it is with great regret that Mrs Violet Estelle Parkinson (nee Burke), has withdrawn herself from your matches. The Ministry will therefore be sending a second match to you in the near future. Regards, Leticia Rowbotham-Farnham, Second Secretary to Kerra Ede, Head of the Love Room.”

Severus looked at the letter as it destroyed itself. _Ah well, no harm no foul._


	7. Chapter 7

He had waited until a little later to start getting himself ready. The parchment had glowed blue, showing him the venue for the second date, but once again neglecting to show his match for the night, his enforced date for the evening. The venue was more casual, not quite as perfectly suited to the first date of a more mature couple. It was a wine bar in the Wizarding Quarter of Cardiff, a place known for over-priced bottles of wine and pretentious cocktails, The Pegasusaria.

He had chosen to dress more casually for this date. Perhaps, he hoped, by choosing a pair of dress trousers and plain forest green shirt with silver cufflinks, that he would find himself more relaxed, more happy, more calm at this more casual date and perhaps, if he was lucky, he would be able to keep his temper and even be happy on his second Ministry approved date. He had managed to find a soft silver scarf to wear around his neck, along with a charcoal peacoat which would, for the most part, keep him warm and keep his scars mostly covered.

It was unfortunate, he felt, that his scar could not be covered by a glamour, even one as powerful as he could cast. The problem with curse scars was that, no matter what anyone had tried, they could not be covered. And the scars on his neck, though not caused by a cursed object, were in fact caused by something with very strong and powerful dark magic that acted just like a curse would. Funny that. He was stuck with the scars and he found that people were less likely to ask questions if they were not reminded immediately of what he had done and what he had suffered.

He drank a small measure of Firewhiskey as he waited for the name to show up on his parchment. The parchment, which for several hours now had read _Severus T. Snape, your second date will be at **The Pegasusaria** with **NAME**_ glowed blue finally and he smiled softly, throwing back the rest of his drink as he moved to glare at the parchment before touching it resignedly, the name **Millicent Ophelia Bulstrode** appearing in the previously blank space.

He arrived, not two minutes later, in the Cardiff Wizarding Quarter, known as Twoarreab Stryd. He walked towards the bar, its gaudy blue and gold facia standing out among the quaint properties that all appeared as ancient and misshapen as The Burrow. The bar was noisy from the outside and he hoped that would not mean that it was too noisy to hear oneself think. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when he had seen the name of this place on his parchment but knowing that he would be seeing one of his former students, particularly one over whom he had once been Head of House, was likely to be mildly awkward.

He entered the building, finding it warmer than he expected and he undid his coat slowly, pushing the large buttons through the buttonholes as he glanced around, taking in the familiar faces, and those less familiar. There in the corner was Theodore Nott with his Ministry approved date, a young woman with coffee-brown curls. Over there to his left was a very blonde couple, Draco Malfoy and, was that…, yes, Luna Lovegood was his date for the evening. If her hair hadn’t given her away, the fact that she was wearing a fascinator that appeared to have shrunken pineapples in the centre would have. He moved to hang his coat at the coat check, sliding his scarf into a pocket as he smiled at the young man working there, glimpsing some of his contemporaries over the young man’s shoulder. That was definitely Joseph Fawley, a pure-blood who was two or three years younger than Severus. He had never taken the Dark Mark, nor had he fought with the Order. He was a low-level peon in the Muggle government now, Severus heard. Something about integration. And with him was a familiar looking dark-haired female that he couldn’t quite place. For a moment, Severus thought it was Bellatrix Lestrange until he noticed the wisps of blonde hair that framed her face, bleached by the sun no doubt, as it was wont to do in the summertime. It was obviously Andi. He paused as he thought the name for the first time in a long time. Andromeda Tonks nee Black. In that moment, he missed her. They had been close once. Before. Before the first War. Before the Dark Lord. Just…before.

With a shake of his head, clearing out the cobwebs and the old memories, he headed towards the bar, determined to get himself a drink before Miss Bulstrode arrived, hoping beyond hope that this would not be a complete disaster. The barman, a short, wiry fellow with sandy brown hair and hazel eyes looked him up and down as he approached and appeared to find him wanting. A small curl of a sneer appeared on the man’s face and Severus knew that tonight would not go well unless he could keep his temper in check. The venom had left him unable to perform Occlumency for long periods of time, however, for this interaction it should still be possible. He glanced at the drinks menu and frowned. Wonderful. Their choice of free drinks was limited to cocktails only.

“What’ll it be?” The barman jerked his chin in a strange motion that made Severus grimace internally. The man looked entirely too grumpy to be in the service industry.

“I’ll have a…High Eclipse.” It was, Severus thought, a particularly pretentious name, but it appeared to have plenty of alcohol. Rum, Sloe Gin, Crème Yvette, Lime juice and a so-called Pearl of Limoncello, a frozen ball that almost peered out of the purple liquid to represent the moon. He hoped that the drink at least tasted good. It was described as ‘berries and citrus with a burn’ which he considered a good choice.

“Hello Professor Snape.” The voice came from somewhere over his left shoulder and he turned to look at his company. His eyes widened as Millicent Bulstrode smiled at him. This was not the Millicent Bulstrode he remembered. That girl had been as tall as she was wide with short black hair, a round face and sullen eyes. She had been a menace, constantly fighting and losing Slytherin points.

The woman in front of him now, and she was a woman _not_ a girl as he had feared, was perhaps a few inches shy of six feet tall, though with the heeled boots she was wearing it was difficult to tell, except for the fact that she was still slightly shorter than him. She was still larger perhaps than most of her contemporaries but her body shape had changed. Though she still carried additional weight in her thighs, stomach and, unless he was very much mistaken, her arse, she carried proportionate weight over her whole body and, as such, appeared to have glorious curves everywhere he liked to see them. Her hair, now styled in a pixie cut, was still black but as she moved it seemed to shine purple and green. He frowned at it and she smiled slightly.

“The Muggles call it Oilslick. I call it a gift from George Weasley…” She brushed her hand through her hair and quirked her lips at him in a small smile. He smiled back, still cataloguing the changes to the plain girl he had known. The boots she wore were a Victorian style, laced up to the knee and dark blue, her dress cut diagonally to land at her mid-calf on the left and just above mid-thigh on the right. Like her boots, it too was dark blue with a silver stitching that looked like starbursts trailing up the skirt before ending in a cluster on her right shoulder. The top of her dress was a corset, drawing attention to her breasts in a not entirely unpleasant way, and he smirked as he raised an eyebrow. Her face was subtly made up. She was an attractive woman, though she may not have been as a child. She had picked up the drinks menu at some point during his staring and she leaned forward now, offering a generous glimpse of her ample cleavage to the barman.

“A Galaxy Mule for myself, thank you.” She smiled at the barman and the smiled remained on her face as she turned back to Severus. He lifted his eyes from where they had been firmly planted on her breasts, a slight flush on his face as she raised an eyebrow in a parody of his own signature look. The drink was delivered with a smile from the barman, a brightly coloured concoction that smelled of lime and ginger. He knew the drink contained vodka and was well aware of the very clever trick that the bar employed to make the drink change colour – Butterfly Pea flowers. It was something that had been advertised in various establishments in both worlds over the last year or two and he had to admit that it looked clever, even if it added little to the drink itself. He shuddered slightly as she took a sip. Where his drink tasted sweet, Millicent’s actually looked sweet.

“Shall we?” Severus indicated a table away from the bar, much to the obvious chagrin of the barman, and was thankful that she agreed to sit with him.

“So, Master Snape, may I ask what you are doing with your life now?” Rather than the cacophony of grunts he had become used to in his classroom, Millicent Bulstrode seemed eloquent and he found that bode well for any further interactions.

“Of course, Miss Bulstrode, but please, call me Severus.” His voice, like liquid chocolate, warm and decadent, was soft and deep and she smiled at him, not completely immune to his charms, however dubious they should have been given their history.

“Severus then, and you must call me Millicent. But please, never Millie.” He smiled at her, acknowledging her request before he began to talk to her about himself.

“I work with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and St Mungo’s, creating and advancing their understanding of Potions. I also consult for the DMLE during Potions cases. I don’t specifically need to work but I choose to so my skills don’t atrophy. And yourself, Millicent?” Severus smiled at her and took a sip of his drink, thankful for the sweet flavour and the warmth that burned nicely as he swallowed.

“I am a Dominatrix actually, Severus.” He swallowed strangely, coughing through his discomfort. That was not the answer he was expecting.

“Oh…oh…are you indeed? That’s an…uh…interesting choice of profession.”

“Oldest profession in the world. And I love it. And, more importantly I suppose, I’m good at it.” There was no shame, no awkwardness in her expression. Strangely, Severus found the confidence rather enlightening.

“So…Millicent, what…what exactly are you looking for with this Marriage Law?” Get it out in the open, he thought. Perhaps with her confidence he would find a way to discuss what he wanted for a marriage as well. His wants were, he knew, potentially as odd as hers could be.

“I want someone who will take care of me, someone who will be the dominating factor in my personal life. I want to continue working but still be able to come home at night and cuddle and blow off some steam. I want to be able to smile and be free to be myself with them. I want to make love to them and be with them in every sense of the word. I don’t care if they work or not. I just want to come home to them and love them. What do you want, Severus?” She was calm and collected and he was pleased that she was so stoic. However, hearing her spell it out for him made him even more sure that this match would not be right for him. He offered her a polite but distant smile and shook his head slightly.

“Miss Bulstrode, I would be obliged if you would reject the match at your earliest convenience. I find that our wants and needs are not compatible at all and would prefer not to continue to make this situation more awkward.” He knew that, as the woman, she was the only one allowed to refuse a match but knew also that she would be looking at the situation from the perspective of a Slytherin and, while a breath of fresh air from most people he knew, it was also not useful at this time.

“May I ask first, Mr Snape, if it is my profession or me that you dislike enough to reject me out of hand?” The crease between her eyes as she frowned made him feel she had probably been rejected many times in her life and he felt rather sad for her. She had not been the best student, but she was a person with a lot to offer. She just wasn’t right for him.

“Neither, Millicent. My life has always been a rather solitary one and the idea of sharing it with someone so completely, anyone if I am honest, is terrifying. You need someone able to be affectionate and strong and loving. I have no experience of this, and I think it would feel too much like work for you to actually enjoy a relationship with me. I want what is best for you Millicent. And I am absolutely, completely sure that is not and never will be me.” Severus leaned towards her, brushing a friendly kiss against her forehead before standing and walking away from the bar, not caring who noticed his shoulders dropping or his sullen look.


	8. Chapter 8

She watched him leave. She couldn’t seem to help it. Severus Snape walked into a room and commanded attention immediately. His clothes, still dark and brooding, had the same effect on her that they always had. They made her sit up and take notice. She had noticed him when he walked in and she had seen Millicent Bulstrode join him. She had paid far more attention to him than she had to her own date. Hermione Granger sighed and turned back to the man sitting opposite her, catching the tail end of his monologue.

“…that’s why it is completely essential that all the Silk Barberry comes from the Western Coast of South America; the berries are more potent and less likely to be hybrids corrupted by the Dwarf Barberry. Of course, I don’t deal with the actual purchase of the ingredients, but I have informed the Department of Imports and Exports of this information. Hopefully, the sycophants that work there under Leon Prott will actually listen to my suggestions rather than ignoring me completely like they did about the Goldhorn’s Tongues. And wasn’t _that_ a disaster…” Hermione lost focus, ignoring her date once again as she began thinking about the Marriage Law.

Her first match had been Theodore Nott. She had been mildly surprised that he would match with her, especially because the most important thing on her form had been an ability to share information and converse together. Theodore Nott was an Unspeakable. He was the first person she had met on the three occasions she had travelled down to that floor so she wasn’t entirely sure what his job was, but she did know that he would not particularly be able to discuss his work. His answers to her questions had been so vague and hush-hush that she had felt the need to look around at the other patrons rather than to converse with a poor man’s James Bond.

That was when she had spotted Severus Snape first. He was sitting with a woman who appeared to be a little older than him. He shifted in his seat and seemed uncomfortable. The woman was talking at him and he gripped his glass a little too tight, his knuckles white. She recognised the look in his eye and almost smiled at him. He was angry and hurting and in a foul temper thanks to whoever that woman was, and the face he was pulling was peak Professor Snape.

Hermione had always noticed Severus, especially after the War. That day, she had seen him at his absolute worst. She had seen him a few times in the years since too. Namely at Ministry functions or in passing. If she was alone, he acknowledged her with a nod and continued on his way. If either of the boys were with her, he curled his lip and turned away. On very, very rare occasions (Hermione was half convinced those occasions were when he was drunk), he would almost, _almost_ smile at her. That could be wishful thinking on her part though.

There was something about his magic that called to her, though she could never really put her finger on what it was. It had all started way back when she had still been a student and now it felt like no man really measured up.

That first date with Theodore Nott had ended abruptly for her when Severus had stood from the table, shouted something unintelligible and headed directly to the bar next door. Hermione had leapt from her seat, apologised to Theo with a comment that their inability to discuss work or most other areas of their lives without conflict would mean that their relationship was doomed to fail, and darted after Severus, determined to help where she could. She had spotted him ducking into a local bar and had followed at as much of a distance as she could.

He had been drinking heavily that night, shot after shot. By the time he had been cut off by the barman, he had consumed at least twenty double shots of something that smelled awful. She only knew how it smelled because after he had left the bar, she had followed him outside to make sure he was able to get home in one piece. And thank Merlin she had followed him to the Apparation point. He had stumbled twice and then spun in a wide circle without actually going anywhere. She cursed and, thankful she knew where he lived, she had gripped his coat and Disapparated, landing directly in front of Spinner’s End. He smiled happily and, in a completely bizarre move that she was not expecting, clapped his hands and giggled before walking up to the door and falling through it. _Ah well, at least he was safe._

Her second date, currently ongoing, was with the one person who was the exact opposite of Theo Nott. He could talk about his work…and little else it seemed. The man was a blustering bore and, she was hugely thankful she had absolutely no intention of ever marrying into that family.

“Percy? You realise, don’t you, that I do not intend to continue with this attempt at a relationship? I love you all, but like brothers…” Hermione smiled softly. The Weasleys were lovely but, as a whole, they were either married (George, Bill and Ron), gay (Charlie and, rumour had it, Ginny) or…Percy.

“Oh, well…Hermione that is possibly the best news I have had this week. Not that you aren’t a very lovely girl, you are, but, well, you’re just…you’re Ron’s seconds aren’t you? I could never be with someone who had knowledge of another brother…” He blustered, blushing hotly and she tried not to smirk at him. Gosh, he really was a frightful prude. With a polite smile and a nod to her companion, she stood and left the bar, looking around her to check whether she could spot the man who intrigued her so much.


	9. Chapter 9

The last dates had been complete disasters, Severus acknowledged, and stared at the cauldron in front of him. It bubbled and changed colour, just as it was supposed to, and he smiled, turning the flame low and glancing at the parchment beside him. He knew the Potion inside and out, but he always felt like it was probably worth keeping an eye when the potion was as tricky as this one. A glance at the clock told him he should probably start making an effort soon.

It was almost time for his third Ministry sanctioned date, and he was currently dressed in…well, if he was honest, he was currently dressed as Professor Snape. The outfit, a remnant from his days at Hogwarts, was practical, easy to clean and, most importantly, protective. He glanced at the clock again and noticed that the piece of parchment at the end of his desk was starting to flash blue at him. He sighed, groaning as he took the cauldron off the flame completely. He glanced down at his outfit and sighed, casting a cleaning spell and transfiguring the cravat he wore to a deep plum purple. It hopefully would distract whoever his date was from the fact that he looked like his old self. 

He cast a breath-freshening charm and blasted his hair, which had very quickly gained its former oily appearance, with a charm that should make it look slightly better. He raked his hand through it and swiftly charmed it back into a low ponytail. It wasn’t as horrendous as it had been in the past, but it wasn’t as good as it would have been with a shower. He glanced at the paper and swore, loudly, vehemently and in disbelief.

There was absolutely no way in hell the Ministry had an equation, charm, potion or, in fact, two braincells that would match him with Rita Skeeter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS POINTS FOR ANYONE WHO RECOGNISES THE BLACKADDER QUOTE!

He walked into the Hall of the Ministry and looked around, noticing some of the most bizarre and, frankly, uncomfortable pairings he had ever seen. He noticed, with some alarm, that Luna Lovegood appeared to be on a date with Horace Slughorn, Dean Thomas was sitting opposite Rolanda Hooch and Minerva McGonagall was staring disapprovingly at Kingsley Shacklebolt who looked exceptionally uncomfortable, especially given that this was all his fault. And then he saw her.

Rita Skeeter was waiting for him, a Quick Quotes Quill and notepad in front of her on the table. He nearly turned around and ran, especially after he saw the hideous dress she was wearing, a lime green monstrosity with purple sequins on the skirt made to resemble peacock feathers. Unfortunately, she had noticed him and waved over at him. With a soft sigh and an inward roll of his eyes, he headed towards the table she was sitting at, nearly bumping into someone in a very classy business suit in black with a silver thread. He glanced at the young lady and his eyes widened as he realised that he recognised her. Hermione Granger, now a grown adult, was very definitely _grown_. He nodded politely to her, as he always tried to, and she smiled slightly before indicating he should move ahead of her.

“Thank you, Miss Granger.” He murmured softly as he walked towards Rita’s table and he thought he heard her sigh as she headed towards the table next to his, a table which contained a man dressed in a purple suit with a gold and green cape flung over the back of his chair. The gold of the cape matched the man’s shirt and Severus stifled a very unbecoming giggle as he realised who her date was. It seemed this date was, for all intents and purposes, a random draw made by the Ministry because, in love, sometimes it was just a little bit of madness that made people stay together.

“Hello Mr Lockhart.” Her voice was soft and melodious as she reached the table and he tried to control himself better as the acid green nails of his date pressed into his arm as he reached her.

“Hello Severus, may I call you Severus?” Even her voice seemed acidic to his ears and he held back the shiver that ran down his spine. Severus nodded abruptly and sat at the table, turning slightly away from Hermione Granger and Gilderoy Lockhart. The pairing, with such a large age gap, felt incredibly awkward to him. Especially because she had been his student. The fact that the man was a completely inept moron did not help his cause either of course. Severus turned back to the bottle-blonde female in front of him and wondered how one started a conversation with someone who had no recognisable merit or personality.

“How are things at the Daily Prophet these days, Miss Skeeter?” He raised an imperious eyebrow, glad that they were firmly back under control after his previously unkempt ways. He refused to listen to the conversation happening next to him, though it seemed nearly impossible.

“Oh, I’ve moved on from the Daily Prophet. I am writing Biographies now. Albus Dumbledore was just the first of many.” A noise that started in his throat sounded like an affirmation and she began to waffle on about the other people who she had written about while Severus listened to the Lockhart/Granger table next to him. It was far more interesting after all.

“Well, I had a teensy accident with an Obliviate you see my dear. It’s because I’m such a powerful wizard of course, there was bound to be an accidental rebound of a spell though _why_ I was casting an Obliviate we will never know. Anyway, have you heard about the new treatment in Azkaban? The Obliviscaris Maximus? Well, the treatment was all my idea of course. It’s a wonderful treatment. They fully wipe the memories of the Death Eaters and all those rather nasty sorts and then use a spell called Memento Meivia. It rebuilds all the memories but with no emotional attachment. Incredible really. Then those nasty people have no feelings against Muggleborns and other unfortunates and they can be taught the correct way to think. It really is a wonderful treatment. I think perhaps _that_ is why I was casting the Obliviate of course. So that the Healers could test it on me before they tested it on those nasty Death Eater sorts.” Gilderoy Lockhart was still, in spite of the Obliviate and the fact that he had spent an awfully long time in the Janus Thickey Ward, an overwhelmingly moronic, obnoxiously vile, pompously annoying twerp. Especially considering who he was talking to. Severus was looking forward to seeing Miss Granger take Gilderoy down a peg or two.

“Mr Lockhart, did you know that I work for the Ministry? In the Research and Development of Charms and Spells Department, specifically under the leadership of Ignacio Talpin, who works almost exclusively under the purview of St. Mungo’s Hospital? The latest research I have been doing is on the efficacy of removing emotive memories in the healing of victims of the Cruciatus Curse. My research is based on the use of the Memento Meivia on the acclaimed Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom who are now able to form attachments to their son Neville Longbottom although the side effect of the Obliviscaris Maximus is that they have no attachment to his childhood whatsoever and can only form an attachment to the adult in the abstract knowledge of him being related, sort of as one may feel for a distant cousin.” _Oh, she was magnificent._ Severus was incredibly proud of her in that moment. Not for what she had said, specifically, but for pointing out very clearly and, mostly concisely, that Gilderoy Lockhart was full of nonsense.

“Well, I, that is, who do you think came up with the idea of practising on dear Franz and Alan Longbuttock before using it on someone with no Cruciatus history hmm?” Gilderoy blustered and Severus snorted loudly. _Whoops! Caught in the act…_ Gilderoy Lockhart turned to glare at whoever had dared to laugh at him and Severus saw the recognition on his face.

“Cerberus Snake! Wonderful to see you again old chap! And who is this wonderful, glorious creature I see before me?” Gilderoy Lockhart stood directly and walked the three steps to Rita Skeeter’s chair, grasping her hand and pulling her from her seat. She spun under his arm in a strange parody of a dance before he pulled her against him, placing an incredibly sloppy and, seemingly, passionate kiss directly on her lips. Severus had never seen anything more revolting in his life and Hermione looked, frankly, horrified as the kissed devolved into the most unsexy, violent kissing and groping session Severus had ever seen. And he had spent nearly twenty years working in a boarding school around hormonal, generally revolting, sometimes perverted teenagers who had just found out that they could make themselves happy by rubbing. The kiss ended with a revolting slurping, sucking sound and Gilderoy, who was unflatteringly flushed, turned to Hermione and spoke.

“Sorry, dear girl, I think I may have found a better match. She’s got a tongue like an electric eel and she likes the taste of a man’s tonsils.” Hermione blanched as Gilderoy Lockhart led Rita Skeeter to the dance floor and proceeded to parade around with her, grinding against her as the music in his head, for there was none playing, changed beat. Severus turned to look at Miss Granger, his eyes wide, unsure what exactly to say.

“I appear to have lost my date. Thank goodness. I mean, honestly, what in Merlin’s name are the Ministry thinking?” She placed her hand on his arm and smiled softly. He smiled back, unable to stop himself and she laughed quietly before she turned away, picking up her bag.

“I mean, really, you and I are a better match than the matches I’ve had so far. Maybe next time hmm?” She smiled at him again and, for a moment, he was flustered. Could she really be _hoping_ he would be her match? While he collected his thoughts, she winked at him and walked away.


	11. Chapter 11

He had received notice the very next day after the practically non-existent and yet still disastrous date with Rita Skeeter that she was no longer on the market and he would therefore be receiving another match in due course. He should have felt…something. Probably something other than relief. As it was, he mostly just felt tired. And strangely pensive. Had Miss Granger really been flirting with him? Or was she just being polite? He thought he had heard someone from the Ministry, possibly even Draco, mentioning that she had stopped kowtowing to people and had begun speaking her mind. He had noticed it when he had seen her with Gilderoy Lockhart, and it had made him smile then. Now though, with the way she had commented about their suitability, it made him uncomfortable and slightly awkward to think that perhaps she had meant it. He decided to think about something else, anything else.

He had heard all about the Obliviscaris Maximus programme in Azkaban from Draco. They had asked him for permission to use the spell on Lucius and Draco had come to Severus for advice.

“He’s my father Severus. It would be like…a whole new man coming to live at Malfoy Manor. But…he would be released from that horrible place. He should die in there, that’s what the Ministry think. But this spell…Severus, it’s incredible. They completely wipe all his memories, all the Pureblood doctrines, all the…all the bloody stupid noseless bastard crap. They even wipe the memory of Mother and I. He won’t know us, not really. And then they implant these…new memories. Except they aren’t _new_ exactly. They are still his memories. Just without the emotions and belief system behind it. It is incredible. He will know I am his son, but he won’t remember…any of it.”

Severus smiled to himself, remembering how Draco had spent more than an hour monologuing and never letting Severus get a word in edgewise, right up until the moment he had let loose with another burst of information.

“And you know what the worst, the _worst_ thing is? It’s that the person who came up with this treatment is Hermione ‘Gryffindor Princess’ Granger. I’m to be _grateful_ to her for the rest of my life? How is that _fair_ …?”

Eventually, Lucius Malfoy had returned home, his memories stripped of the hatred and vitriol they had contained in the past and Draco had got past his tragic imagination of how Hermione Granger would treat him. They had even, bizarrely, become friends, in the loosest sense of the word.

Severus sighed. Apparently, he was not to be distracted from the topic of Miss Hermione Granger today. He would have to do the one thing he did not want to do. He would have to make a list of pros and cons about whether Hermione Granger should be on his shortlist, whether she actually was or not.

Firstly, on the positive side, she was intelligent. They would be able to converse about a number of subjects and it was unlikely she would flounder. He would always know more about Potions than she did, but he was sure she had her own knowledge base where he would be…not lacking, precisely, but perhaps less knowledgeable.

Secondly, on the positive side again, she seemed to be a genuinely affectionate person. She had touched his arm without so much as a shudder, shiver of trepidation or even, heaven forbid, a moue of distaste. That could be beneficial.

On the negative side however, she may expect him to be…effusive in his own affections. He just…wasn’t like that. That definitely went in the ‘con’ section of his list.

As did the age gap. It wasn’t that nineteen years was unbearable of course. It was just…rather a lot considering the type of life they had both lived. Her parents had obviously cared about her for a start. And had money. And looked after her. And thought they could protect her, right until she became friends with the sodding Boy Who Lived and put herself in danger on a regular basis.

And there was another con. She had abysmal taste in friends. She was still often seen with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, and not even just for photo opportunities and publicity. They genuinely seemed to still…like each other, especially considering the very abnormal relationship they all had.

But then, as a positive, she was obviously very loyal and would, regardless of a person’s faults, give them multiple chances if they made mistakes. Which, in his mind, was incredibly likely if he was going to spend any time around her.

And that was what this was all about really wasn’t it? Would he be able to spend time with her? Would he be able to be around her? Did she want him to spend time with her? Did she want to…kiss him? He stopped himself then. He did not need to be putting pressure on himself. The Ministry wanted to choose him a wife. It was unlikely that wife would be her. He found, however, he was rather interested in finding out who his next date would be.


	12. Chapter 12

He hadn’t even looked at the name of his date. Not really. A mere glance had confirmed that the first letter was _not_ an H and yes of course he was pleased with that. He was not at all disappointed that he would not be walking towards Hermione Granger with the sole purpose of getting to know her better. Definitely not disappointed.

At least, not until he had seen her out of the corner of his eye. Her tight black trousers cupped her arse perfectly and her blouse, a deep silvery silk with long sleeves, clung to her curves and showed just the hint of a swell of breasts. Her heels, simple black shoes that were probably the same shoes that she wore to work every day, made her calves look particularly shapely. And when in the hell had he started being interested in a woman’s calves?

“Oh, Severus, there you are. I knew you would be here, waiting for me. At least now we don’t have to deny our destiny.” That voice. It couldn’t be. No. Anyone but her. He glanced towards the voice and his skin began to crawl. Oh, dear Merlin no…

“Hello Sybill.” Professor Trelawney was wearing a long cream linen set of robes, practical and functional but not particularly attractive especially considering she had paired it with approximately a thousand scarves, necklaces, bangles and various other accoutrements that matched nothing. Her hair was, frankly, enormous and looked like a bird’s nest. The feathers, beads and various pieces of shell did nothing to dispel the look either.

“I have been waiting so long for this. I knew you would be my perfect match. I’ve known since the Ministry announced this Marriage Law. I have seen our future. Our children will be perfect. Ignatius, Theodore, Aloysius and Oberon will be our sons. They will grow big and strong and will look after us, well into our dotage. Our daughters will be Desdemona, Cassandra and Hecate and they will all have The Sight and make us proud.” He was almost completely stunned into silence. Seven. The crazy old bat wanted seven children.

“No, I will _not_ give up my job to raise your four children! Are you insane? I make more money than you!” He heard the shriek from across the room and without meaning to, his head whipped round. He had recognised the voice. Of course, he had. It wasn’t like he was attuned to Hermione Granger or anything.

“Come on, Granger. Four is a nice round number. Three boys and a girl. Ardal and Boyd, they’ll be the twins. There’s a spell for that. And then Cormac Junior, he’ll be the baby of the family. And then at least a couple of years later, but before you get too old for it, a happy accident, we’ll have Fionnuala after my Mother. You’ll be strict with them all, of course, can’t have them disturbing Daddy while he is working. And then when they go off to Hogwarts, you’ll only have to worry about keeping me happy. I’ve got it all worked out, Granger. We were good before.” Cormac McLaggen’s voice was loud, booming and yet somehow grated on his nerves terribly. He was causing a scene.

“We went to _one_ party together, you had more arms than the Giant Squid and then vomited on Professor Snape’s shoes. It was an utter disaster and I avoided you for the rest of the year!” Hermione sounded shrill but Severus didn’t blame her. He wasn’t sure what came over him, but he rudely shook Sybill Trelawney’s hand from his arm and marched towards the arguing pair.

“Mr McLaggen, I believe you heard the lady. I am fairly sure we all did. Perhaps you should write this match off and leave. I believe Miss Granger had more sense in her third year than you have now. Her one date with you was perhaps an aberration on her otherwise flawless intelligence record. Put it down to teenage hormones and walk away.” He raised his imperious eyebrow and watched as McLaggen’s face flushed red, paled to white, flushed red again and then began to look mildly green. Severus hastily stepped back and spoke again.

“I do not wish to have to replace another pair of boots due to your expulsive stomach contents Mr McLaggen. I believe I shall be leaving. Miss Granger, would you like to accompany me for a walk?” It seemed, Severus realised, that he quite wanted to be impulsive and spend time with the young woman. He hoped, however, that he did not appear too eager as he did not want to embarrass himself.

“I think that would be wonderful, Mr Snape.” She spoke softly and, when she put her hand on his arm, he did not immediately want to pull away. _Huh. Well. This was quite nice actually._


	13. Chapter 13

“I mean, what on Earth are the Ministry thinking?” They were walking through the streets of London, her hand still holding his arm loosely and discussing exactly what he had expected them to discuss.

“I believe, Miss Granger, that the Ministry don’t know _how_ to think. You are giving them far too much credit. I confess, I’m only aware of two of your matches but, if the others have been as abysmal as mine, I believe the Ministry are simply hoping for desperation to match people.” Severus quirked an eyebrow at her as she giggled lightly.

“Theodore Nott, who could not discuss his work at all and refused to discuss anything with me at all with regards to his future plans because my clearance within the Ministry isn’t high enough. Percy Weasley, who could not _stop_ discussing his work for two minutes to ask me anything about myself and, when I told him it wasn’t going to go anywhere because he, and the rest of the Weasleys, feel like my brothers, told me that he wasn’t much for sloppy seconds anyway. Gilderoy Lockhart, you saw, and Cormac.” She reeled the names off, and he cringed at Percy Weasley’s lack of tact.

“Weasley actually said that?” Although not the most intelligent direction for him to take their conversation, he saw the amusement that curved her lips.

“Well, not in so many words. You know it takes him about a hundred words to say anything of any substance. The man is an utter bore. It’s no wonder Penny broke up with him. Oh, sorry, Penny is…”

“Penelope Clearwater. Yes, I know. The staff had bets on how quickly she would break up with him after Hogwarts. Albus was…Albus was convinced that they would marry and have a dozen children. He always was a romantic though.” Severus smiled slightly sadly as he always did when he thought about Albus. It still hurt, even all these years later.

“So, who won the bet then? She broke up with him about half-way through our fourth year didn’t she?” Hermione grinned at him and he smirked back.

“Sunday April the 16th 1995. Easter Sunday to be specific. And Minerva collected a hefty purse of Galleons that year. She was usually accurate to within a week in those days. Although, there was only one time I beat her, and I didn’t even get to collect the purse.” He laughed softly and she grinned up at him.

“When was that?” She pulled away slightly to look up at him properly and he looked down, trying to judge whether the next sentence was a sensible one. Oh well, she was obviously expecting an answer and he was not going to disappoint her.

“At the very beginning of your third year, a bet was made as to whether it was Harry or the youngest Mr Weasley you would date. She was convinced you would be the new Mrs Potter. I told her you had more sense and would never marry either of them. Mr Weasley is, I believe, happily married to one of the Holyhead Harpies, a team-mate of Ginevra’s. And, of course, Mr Potter is currently single.” Severus raised an enquiring eyebrow and she smiled before shaking her head slightly.

“Well, you are half right. Ron is married to Elizabeth Wicks, the ‘best Chaser in the whole world’ if you’ll listen to his opinion. Harry, however, is not single. He is, in fact, in a long-term relationship with someone who is not yet ready to confess their love.” Hermione’s eyes shone and twinkled, and he laughed slightly.

“So, I take it you know about Draco then?” It had come as a mild shock to Severus at the beginning of Draco’s relationship with Harry but now, it sort of made some kind of mad sense. Severus had eaten with them at Harry’s home on three separate occasions and, while they would never be bosom buddies, they had reached an understanding. Namely that Harry was a Dunderhead and Severus was a Tosser. The thought made him chuckle softly.

“Know about him? I re-introduced them. It’s my fault they are madly, sickeningly in love with each other. It’s revolting really isn’t it?” She giggled and leaned her head against him as she started walking again.

“I wouldn’t say revolting. At least they don’t do it in public. Nothing worse than seeing two people engaged in pre-coital simulation.” He knew he was probably testing the waters a bit too soon but, still, he actually quite liked the way she leaned against him, the way she casually touched him. It didn’t happen often. Who was he kidding? It just didn’t happen at all.

“Oh true, absolutely true. I mean, there are exceptions. A kiss on the cheek, holding hands, even an arm around someone’s waist are all absolutely fine to my mind. I don’t even mind some of the more subtle things, a quick peck on the lips, a squeeze of the waist or even the bum. I just don’t want to see a tongue wrestling competition. Or whatever that hideous display was with Skeeter and Lockhart.” Her cheeks were pink, and he felt that it was rather sweet that she was having this conversation with him and, amazingly, seemed to be considering those actions with him. He opened his mouth to speak and then snapped it closed abruptly. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t good at this sort of conversation. She took in the silence calmly and then filled it with the question he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer.

“So, I’ve told you who the Ministry have paired me with. Your turn. Don’t disappoint me Severus…” Her voice was slightly husky as she said his name and it sent a ripple of _something_ through him. Something pleasant. Definitely pleasant.

“Well, Hermione,” _Oh, it looked like she liked it when he said her name too. That was…nice._ “The Ministry have so far chosen Violet Parkinson, Pansy’s mother, whose husband was in the Death Eaters and who enjoyed the Revels to their fullest extent. Millicent Bulstrode, who was a rather difficult student and who is now, very much not my type. Rita Skeeter who has never been my type and who would probably have spent half the date trying to ask me questions so that she could write an exposé on me…or, Merlin forbid, a whole biographical volume like she did for Albus. And tonight’s…absolutely spectacular choice, was Sybill Trelawney, who has determined, probably via tea leaves soaked in Firewhiskey, that we are destined to have seven children with some of the more pretentious names from her family tree.” He heard a soft snort and looked down at her. Her face was red and she was obviously trying to hold her laughter in but, eventually, as he raised his eyebrow to meet his hairline, she lost the fight and began to giggle. She let go of his arm and he missed the warmth immediately as she folded over, holding her stomach and cackling like an old crone. He couldn’t help himself. His own laugh joined hers, the first time in many years that he had laughed with someone.

“Oh…Oh Severus, I think someone…someone in the Ministry…I think they might _hate_ you. Is it possible you killed their toad with a botched Shrinking Solution in their second year?” Her eyes danced as she continued to laugh and he paused, double checking that she wasn’t being cruel on purpose. Her eyes were dancing, nothing but humour in them, and he shook his head, huffing a soft breath of air through his nose to show that he was amused still, though he didn’t laugh fully. Her laughter stopped abruptly, and she touched his arm, raising her eyes to his.

“Severus, I know you would never have killed Trevor. You had the antidote didn’t you? Even Neville knows that now.” She smiled at him softly and nodded and he felt the need to clarify what would have happened all those years ago, even though she wasn’t really asking.

“I knew you would help Longbottom. I also always carried the antidote to about ninety percent of the standard accidental poisons potioneers and students can make. If, for some bizarre reason, the illustrious know-it-all had not helped Longbottom, I would have dropped the poison on the bench and not on the toad, enough to sizzle and scare the boy but not ever hurt the toad. It isn’t the toad’s fault that his wizard was incompetent.” Severus looked down his nose at her and saw she was smiling softly at him again.

“You’re wrong you know.” Hermione spoke softly, still smiling slightly at him and he frowned, unsure what he was wrong about, exactly.

“About…what?” Severus could feel the frown wrinkling his forehead and he hoped he didn’t look angry, as Minerva often accused him of being. This was possibly one of the first times he had not felt angry at all in quite a while.

“It’s ‘Insufferable Know-It-All’…” She grinned slightly and he shook his head, laughing slightly.

“Maybe I don’t find you quite so insufferable anymore, Hermione.” He spoke softly but he knew she had heard him when her smile widened.

“I hope not, Severus.” She glanced around nervously, flicking her eyes left and right for mere moments to check they were alone before she raised herself onto her toes and planted a soft swift kiss on his very surprised lips. It lasted maybe two seconds and he didn’t have time to say anything as she pulled away, blinked once and immediately Disapparated, a soft crack the only sign that she had been real, for in that moment Severus wasn’t entirely sure.

_Well…shit. That was unexpected. And not at all as terrible as he had thought it might be. Damn. This complicated a great many things._


	14. Chapter 14

He hadn’t been able to think of much else but her from the moment her lips had touched his. It felt kind. Sweet. Like a treasured moment that he would like to repeat. If he had known where she was living, he probably would have written to her. He would have tried to contact her at work, but he knew she worked in the bowels of the Ministry and that would also not work for him. He did not want to broadcast his interest, not just yet. He wasn’t quite ready for the world to know that he was interested in the Gryffindor Princess. In truth, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted her to know. Except that he liked when she smiled at him, and when she held his arm, and when she laughed with him. And he liked when she kissed him. He wanted to do that part again. And again. And, probably, again after that too.

But here he was, three weeks later, preparing for a date with an unknown woman, thinking about another woman he would rather be with tonight. He dressed smartly, ignoring the fact that he was putting a little more effort into his outfit again. He thought a Muggle suit would, perhaps, be a departure from the outfits she had seen him in before. And, damn it, yes he did care what she thought of him. The smart, tapered leg black trousers and crisp white shirt were well within his traditional outfit purview. His tie was a more traditional style than his usual cravat. It was still black but had a fine silver pattern in the right light. He eschewed his usual dragonhide boots and wore plain black leather dress shoes. They pinched his feet slightly but only when he walked. He just hoped that, if he needed to escape his date, he would not have to be walking so much as he had the other night. Though, if the company were as good, he would not complain he was sure.

He spotted Hermione the moment he walked into the little restaurant for his potentially penultimate Ministry-sanctioned date. He hadn’t specifically been looking for her, he chastised himself, because of course he had. However, she was stunning, and he felt a little jealous. She was wearing a pair of tight grey jeans that once again emphasised her shapely calves and a deep green silk blouse with lace sleeves. The woman obviously had a problem with her arms, though he couldn’t imagine what that problem was. She was beautiful. He wanted to approach her, but her date had already arrived. Severus smiled slightly as he noticed the young man sitting with her. A Gryffindor her own age. He supposed that was appropriate. Seamus Finnegan was taller than he had been, his hair slightly longer than the cropped style he had favoured in school. Severus caught Hermione’s eye and gave her his patented smile and nod.

“Hello Professor Snape. I see you have finally managed to clear the infestation of wrackspurts from your hair.” The voice, melodious, soft and sweet, and those words…it could only be one person.

“Miss Lovegood, a pleasure. Shall we?” He gestured to a table a little bit away from where Hermione sat with Mr Finnegan and was slightly frustrated when the blonde girl shook her head.

“Oh no, I much prefer the table over there next to Hermione and Seamus. You don’t mind do you?” She gripped his arm lightly and pulled him towards the table beside Hermione, bizarrely holding his chair out for him. The chair that would see him seated directly _beside_ Hermione. Hermione smiled at them both.

“Hello Luna, Professor Snape.” Her voice was calm and soft and, he liked to think, it had been warm when she spoke his honorific too. Not as warm as when she had called him by his first name, but warm, nonetheless.

“Miss Granger, Mr Finnegan.” He nodded and smiled at her again, nodding at her companion with a far less open look. For his part, Finnegan gave a short nod himself and promptly turned back to Hermione.

“So, anyway, as I was saying…I started working in pyrotechnics after the Battle. It’s what I’m good at. I’ve enjoyed the chance to learn the basics from Muggles too. Dad’s proper chuffed I’m not working with magic as much, he gets to see me more often. Mam doesn’t mind either, although of course, she knows that I enhance some of the explosions with magic. It’s a delicate balance though. You still working in the Ministry, ‘Mione?” Seamus gave her a wide open smile, which dropped when she merely nodded, still looking at Luna and Professor Snape.

“So, Miss Lovegood, what do you do for work these days?” Severus shifted his attention to his date and Hermione turned back fully to Seamus.

“I’m sorry, Seamus, yes…yes I do work in the Ministry still. In Research and Development.” Hermione smiled at him and she tried desperately to ignore the man sitting next to her.

“So, that’s…’Mione, do you basically spend your life in a library?” Seamus chuckled softly and Hermione smiled ruefully.

“In the beginning I did, yes. Now I mostly work in Charm and Spell creation, so it is more practical work. Usually, I manage to avoid the explosions though.” She laughed softly and Seamus grinned ruefully at her, his eyes dancing with humour.

“Well, not always though, right Hermione? There was that time with the Aqua Munda Charm where you made your clothes explode. Do you remember that?” Luna giggled breathily and Severus’s eyes widened as his mind very quickly offered him an image of Hermione Granger in exploded clothing…which amounted to a few scraps covering only the essentials. Hermione giggled and then mock-glared at Luna.

“You swore you’d never tell! And I didn’t _explode_ my clothes. I disintegrated them with the force of the water rush.” Hermione’s eyes were sparkling, and Severus couldn’t help but laugh at her.

“So, what did you do? I’m guessing you did the spell wrong or something?” Seamus’s voice carried over Severus’s laughter and Hermione turned back to her date, rolling her eyes as she did.

“Have you ever known me to get a spell wrong? Aqua Munda is the literal opposition of Fiendfyre and just as beastly difficult to control. It just, sort of, got away from me. I had to cast a Patronus to find the first female member of Dumbledore’s Army…which happened to be Luna who was in the offices upstairs. She came downstairs and I had to beg her to get me some clothes. And so, what did Luna do?” Hermione giggled, her eyes twinkling at Luna as Luna blushed gracefully.

“I took off my blouse and skirt and told Hermione to get herself checked out by the Medi-Witch of course.” Luna smiled happily as Seamus threw back his head and roared with laughter.

“And then…and then Luna went back to her meeting in the Press offices wearing a pair of shorts and her bra and claimed she had made a fashion choice because she was too hot!” Hermione dissolved into giggles and Severus couldn’t help but join in.

“Well, it’s not like they would believe it from anyone else now would they?” Luna smiled at him and Severus shook his head in bemusement. Luna Lovegood was an unusual girl, strange to say the least, and yet she knew how people viewed her and used it to her advantage more often than not, using it to help her friends and her peers in order to keep them safe from all harm.

“It seems, Miss Lovegood, that you are still full of surprises, even this far along in our acquaintance.” Severus spoke calmly, the smile on his lips reflected in his eyes. Luna looked at him in that strange, almost ethereal, way she had and blinked slowly, smiling slightly.

“You must call me Luna, all my friends do. And, I think, we will be friends, Severus. But just that if that’s ok with you? I don’t think I am hungry now. But I know you are. Hermione, order that noodle dish from the Chinese place near your flat. Come on Seamus, let’s leave them to it.” And Luna stood then, grasping Seamus’s arm and pulling him away from what had swiftly become one of the most awkward dates of Severus’s life…bar the one with Rita Skeeter. He sat in silence, gaping at where Luna Lovegood had dragged Seamus Finnegan out of the door.

“Well, Severus, would you like to have Chinese with me? Seeing as my date has been kidnapped by your date?” Hermione touched his arm, and her face was so open, so hopeful, not demanding he acquiesced that he found himself nodding, unable to resist her smile, her eyes…unable to resist her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As part of the Snapebang, I was lucky enough to work with a wonderful (and prolific) artist who I am proud to call my friend, LunaP999. Her artwork is STUNNING and is based on this chapter...
> 
> (I really hope this works! LOL...I just had to type that out by hand...)

He found himself doing something he hadn’t done in a very long time. He was sitting on the floor of someone’s house, with his shoes tucked away, leaning back against a slightly scruffy sofa with a very tasty box of noodles in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other. The last time he had done this he had been sitting with Lucius and Narcissus as they had a glorious “Muggle Evening”, which must have been in the late 80’s or early 90’s now he thought about it.

“Wine? Or do you prefer beer?” His host’s voice called from her kitchen and he shook his head, realising a split second too late that she would not be able to see him.

“Neither, thank you, I prefer not to drink with good company.” He trailed off, half hoping that she wouldn’t hear the end of the sentence. As true as it was, he hated the idea of being so vulnerable with her at this time.

“Oh, ok…water then? I’ll join you.” He heard her running the tap and smiled to himself. All the wizards and witches he knew would have cast Aguamenti and been done with it, in spite of the fact that the water always tasted strangely…well, strange to him. He could never put his finger on it, but it tasted fake. She entered the room, two glasses of water in her hands and a pair of chopsticks held between her lips. For a split second he was jealous of those chopsticks and then he took his glass from her, turning his face from hers back to his food. She sat, her body facing his and he found himself turning to face her more too, watching her as she picked up her own box of noodles.

“Luna and I always get these when we meet for girl’s night. There’s usually four or five of us, depending on whose husband is the most annoying of course. Luna and I are the single members and then there’s Pansy Zabini, Blaise’s wife, Fleur Weasley who is married to Bill and sometimes Susan Creevey, Dennis Creevey’s wife. Susan and I work together in Research and Development, Pansy works at the Quibbler with Luna. Pansy’s their star reporter. Susan generally works in Curses with the Gringotts team, which of course Fleur’s husband works for. It’s all very…cosy shall we say?” Her eyes twinkled and Severus chuckled lightly, unable to comment at all on friendly nights filled with banter and laughter.

“I suppose you have never had nights like that hmm?” She spoke sadly and he gave her a smile.

“Well, way back when, Lucius, Narcissa and I would meet regularly but we don’t make the time as often anymore. And Lucius is…different now.” He smiled at her and she nodded solemnly.

“Do you regret that I persuaded Draco to let us use Obliviscaris Maximus and Memento Meivia on him? You lost your friend didn’t you?” Hermione looked at him and he realised that she thought he might actually regret that Lucius was safe and well and away from the hell of Azkaban.

“I didn’t lose my friend Hermione. I lost nothing. Lucius and Narcissa and I still meet up sometimes. It’s just…different. Narcissa and I are closer now. We remember everything, all the pain, all the hurt, all the tortures that happened in their home. Lucius doesn’t and so, where before he and I would meet for a few glasses of good Firewhiskey before joining Narcissa for dinner, now Narcissa and I share glasses of wine and Lucius joins us for dinner. It is different but life moves on. And sometimes things change, and we are left behind. I am lucky. While Lucius was in Azkaban, Narcissa insisted on a standing engagement, as much for her as for me I am sure.” He smiled softly and she looked into his eyes, as if she were going to use Legilimency on him, but she simply nodded and smiled, taking his words at face value. He shifted slightly, bringing the box of noodles closer to his face in order to shovel them in without dropping anything down his shirt. He had never really got the hang of chopsticks, but he would never admit that to her. He did, after all, have some pride. Perhaps not much of it, but there was some there, hidden behind layers of insecurities.

“I’m glad you have Narcissa. I take it that she is…special to you. Is that why you were caught by this law? Because the woman you want is already married?” Hermione spoke in a rush and he nearly dropped his food as his eyes whipped to hers.

“No, Merlin’s Balls! Narcissa is a wonderful, classy lady. She is also bitter and can be cold and even cruel if she doesn’t get her way. She expects only the best in life and, in the past, has ignored Lucius for days and even weeks if he tries to tell her no. And as much as I love them both, I could never come between them. No, Hermione, I have never viewed Narcissa that way.” His hand blindly found hers and he squeezed lightly as she looked at him and gave a shaky smile.

“Well, I don’t believe that it is because you never loved anyone like you loved Lily Evans. I just…I can’t see it somehow.” She blushed and he knew, in that moment, that she had seen his memories. The thought felt like a violation and he felt a familiar anger rush through him at the utter disregard that a Potter had shown for his personal business. But then she linked her fingers through his and looked at him properly.

“I helped with the Wizengamot. I asked Harry to tell me what he had seen in the Pensieve and he couldn’t describe it clearly enough for me. I asked him to let me see them. He agreed but told me that it wasn’t really his choice and if you found out, he would need 24 hours’ notice to flee the country.” Hermione smiled sheepishly and the anger fluttered a breath away, just out of reach.

“And when you watched the memories? What were your conclusions, Miss Granger?” He was aware that his head was telling him to push her away but all he wanted was to hear her get it right. She was intelligent. If she could just get this right, maybe he could get past the anger.

“Oh, now don’t you ‘Miss Granger’ me, Severus Snape,” she huffed a breath and closed her eyes before she continued, “Lily Evans was your first friend. You loved her in the same way I love Ron and Harry. Even in the same way I loved the only friend I had before Hogwarts, my friend from childhood, Emily. She was the sort of person you wanted to be better for, the sort of person that made you believe in happy things and in the truth of things. She promised to be your friend, your best friend, forever. And then one day she stopped being your best friend. She started to pull away and you got scared and lashed out because she had already hurt you. And then you lost her. But you hoped that one day, one day she would accept your apology and accept you again. And then, it never happened. Your regret is what made you bitter. It wasn’t unrequited love that made you angry, it was hurt and your own regrets.” Hermione smiled at him and he exhaled a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding.

“When did you get so smart, Hermione?” He smirked at her, nodding slightly as he agreed with her assessment in its entirety. She got it. She understood. Better than anyone else ever had.

“Didn’t you know, Severus? I’ve always been a know-it-all…” She giggled slightly and he shook his head, leaning towards her and tucking her hair behind her ear. Her eyes caught his and his brain short-circuited. He knew that they needed to talk but at that moment he couldn’t remember any words except…

“Hermione…”


	16. Chapter 16

He leaned towards her, his lips finding hers and he kissed her, sweetly, gently, as he had wanted to ever since she had kissed him. She moaned against his lips and moved closer. He pulled back, suddenly aware of the box of noodles in his hand. She looked nervous, awkward and he wondered if he should talk to her or if he should kiss her again. He wasn’t sure which was more important in that very moment. He placed his chopsticks into the box, counting to himself slowly so that he could make the decision easily. He looked at her, his eyes catching first on her eyes and then again on her lips and he made the decision. He placed the box of noodles behind him on the sofa and pulled her into his embrace, his hand moving to the back of her head as he placed his lips on hers again.

Hermione Granger was one of the most vocal and expressive women Severus had ever encountered. She moaned, she whimpered, she gasped and growled low in her throat, she sighed. Her hands stroked and touched and traced and brushed against the buttons of his shirt and he found himself moaning against her lips as she pushed her chest against his, feeling her breasts press against him as she clambered slightly awkwardly into his lap. His hands buried themselves in her hair and tugged lightly, eliciting another groan from them both as she rocked in his lap. He pulled away, gasping for breath, harshly reminded that he was not as young as he once was and that, actually, one needed to breathe between kisses. Hermione sighed, catching her breath far quicker than he did. She reached for her drink, still straddling his lap, and he growled softly as she brushed against him in a way that would have seemed accidental if she hadn’t smirked as she did it. She sat upright against him and swallowed the icy cold water, slowly draining the glass.

She was giving him time to object, he realised. Time to stop this. Time to slow it down. He picked up his own glass of water, drinking a few sips at a time in order to give himself time that she had realised he needed, which he had not even considered he might need. She finished her water first, a single drop collected at the corner of her mouth and he knew, knew he did not want time. He wanted to kiss her again. So, he did. He pulled her forward, locking his hand behind her head as the other travelled to the hem of her blouse, tracing against her waist lightly as their lips touched and he felt the sparks in his chest, a warm feeling passing through him that felt sweet and pure and yet burning bright inside him.

They kissed for as long as they could, taking tiny gasps of breath whenever they needed it but barely daring to move apart from each other. She wanted more, he could feel it from the way her hips rocked and rolled above him, grinding down on him as she moaned softly. His hand slipped under her blouse and she mewled, a noise that caused him to react more strongly to her than he already was, his cock hardening further underneath her. He knew she could feel it and he groaned against her lips as she dropped her hand to stroke him lightly through his trousers. He pulled away to breathe properly and she looked at him, her hand still stroking him lightly.

“Not…no…not…” His words were muddled, his tongue heavy and he groaned as he reached for his drink to wet his throat for just a moment, while they paused their kissing and he was able to calm down, just a little. Except, somehow, that was not what happened, and she squeezed her thighs around his waist, apparating them together immediately into her bedroom. He was flat on his back here, the glass left behind in her living room. She groaned as she leaned down on top of him, her lips attaching themselves to his neck as her hands swiftly began to open his shirt buttons, brushing the scars on his chest lightly. He whimpered, rolling his head to the side, trying to get his brain to function properly so he could ask her just to slow down, just for a moment. The words wouldn’t come, he was enjoying himself, though the nervousness was beginning to prickle in his head and make him over think. He felt unsure and yet had no idea how to stop her. His hands moved to her waist, ostensibly to pry her off of his lap, but his fingers seemed to forget along the way that that was what he had intended, and his fingers slipped underneath her blouse, touching her stomach and her waist as she continued to suckle his neck and trace his chest with her fingers. He groaned and she seemed to take it for encouragement, shifting slightly against him as she vanished her blouse.

“Touch me.” Her words barely registered with him as he started doing just as she asked, almost as if it was a reflex and not a conscious choice on his part. His hands trailed up her sides, feeling her skin for the first time. She pulled away briefly, taking in the tiny frown between his eyes and she sighed, whispering words to remove her glamour. His eyes widened slightly, watching the trust and the nerves in her eyes, and he knew that this was the first time she had shown someone the full extent of what the War had done to her.

A large scar lay between her breasts, travelling almost to her navel and he recognised it as a remnant of a hideous curse that Antonin Dolohov had favoured at one time. He let his eyes roam over her body, the puckered and tight skin on her side making sense when he saw the fine lines of Cruciatus contact scars that radiated over her stomach and seemed to dip into her jeans. She turned her inner arm to face him, and he saw the scar that he knew Bellatrix Lestrange had caused on the floor of Malfoy Manor, thanks to a conversation with Narcissa. He breathed softly, looking at the marks on her body and momentarily unsure what to do or say. He hoped it was the right decision as he wandlessly dispelled his own glamours and bared his scarred skin to her. She blinked twice, staring at his chest before her eyes moved to his neck and then to his face. She moaned softly and leaned down, kissing him fully and passionately on the lips.

He groaned against her, his body reacting to every movement she made and he found himself thrusting against her, his cock hard in his underwear, desperately trying to fuck her through his clothes. He wanted, needed, to slow down but his body was not behaving, not listening to his mind. He wanted her desperately, more than he had ever wanted anyone. As if she knew, as if he had said something out loud, she removed her jeans and his trousers with a wave of her hand. Her skin rubbed against his and he swore under his breath. This, this was how it should be, this was what he wanted. His cock strained upwards and he realised he was completely missing his underwear as well. And so was she. He felt the moisture gathering in her folds and whimpered as she rocked backwards, coating him in her essence. And then…then…he keened, his hips snapping upwards as she rocked back onto him, taking his length deep inside her as she shuddered and tightened around him.

He knew it wouldn’t last long, it had been a long time for him, he didn’t do this often, if at all. He never really had been one for doing this and…

He felt her tighten around him, moaning and spasming as she came hard. Her body flopped forward, and he felt her breasts press against him. He sighed softly and in that moment he realised that his body was no longer ready for her. His eyes widened and he realised that finally, _finally_ his body was listening to him. He wanted to swear and curse but, instead, he closed his eyes for a moment.

“Severus? Are you ok?” Her voice was sweet and she was mumbling into his chest. Suddenly it was too much for him and he couldn’t stand the closeness. He rolled to his side, moving her to lie next to him. She tried to curl a leg over him and he moved swiftly, standing from the bed, staring at the naked woman in her rumpled sheets.

“Severus?” He turned away, hiding his face from her and, as he heard her move, he summoned his clothes, holding them in front of him as he immediately Apparated home away from her, leaving her alone in the bed.


	17. Chapter 17

The owl had arrived later than he had expected. For three days she had completely ignored him. Or at least that was how it felt. He hadn’t contacted her either. How could he? How could he possibly explain his behaviour to her? She’d be just like the others, calling him weird, calling him a freak, calling him strange, creepy, perverted, defective, broken. He couldn’t handle that, not from her. Even if it was true. He didn’t need her to know that he was defective. He didn’t want to confirm any of that. He had almost managed to convince himself that she didn’t care about him and he didn’t care about her either. Nope, not at all, not one bit.

And then the owl had arrived. It was a very smart, very stately looking owl, similar to the ones that usually arrived with post from the Ministry, but he recognised her handwriting and knew it couldn’t contain anything good. He opened the window to let the owl in and untied the post from its leg with some trepidation. He turned to give the owl a treat of some description, not entirely sure what he had available, but the bird flew away before he could offer it anything. Obviously, the bird had decided not to wait for a response. This did not bode well. He opened the envelope and sat down to read.

_Severus,  
I hope this letter finds you well. I am going to start this letter as I mean to go on. I am going to be the adult and not whine or complain about the fact that you left me without saying anything. Oh bother, that wasn’t a good start was it? Right, let’s start this again._

_I am of the belief that I will not be your final match, as far as the Ministry is concerned. I find this more than a little disappointing as I know that you are almost everything I look for in a man. You are resilient, brave, magically impressive, intelligent, interesting and willing to spend time with me. I am also aware of your faults, in that you can be overly critical, impatient and, when angry, downright rude. I find, however, that these are not things I would find to discount you from my own personal list of suitable partners._

_The only thing that I can think of that will have caused the Ministry to object to a match between us is that something on our questionnaire did not match up the way they would wish it to. My thought is that possibly you were looking for someone more attractive, like yourself, or that your essay questions were answered in a way that was more accurate than mine._

_I would like to share one answer with you, only so that you may understand a little more about what the time with you has meant to me. The question that was asked, as I am sure you will remember, was “Have you ever been in love before, and if so with whom and why did it end?”_

_**I have been in love all my life. I have been in love with the feel of my magic, the burn of my soul, the way the winds blow and the life within me. I have never found someone who could make me feel that way, or more, when I am with them. That is what love will look like to me. When the world burns stronger and brighter and better when I am with them, when all that is good is just, somehow, better, that is what love will feel like to me. I have loved men before, and women, but none has made me feel the more that I am seeking. One day I will find that more, and then I will know true love.** _

_Thank you for showing me more, Severus. I hope you will be happy and find what gives you more._

_With affection,  
Hermione Jean Granger _

Well.

Shit.


	18. Chapter 18

This was his last chance and he knew it. One more chance to find his wife before the Ministry would just throw whoever it could find at him. He was more than just nervous. He was absolutely, completely, insanely terrified. He didn’t want to find a complete stranger. He didn’t want to find a wife. He rather liked his life as it was.

He decided, though, that tonight he would make an effort reminiscent of the effort he made for his first date. He stopped working at least two hours before his final date. He packed everything in his lab away and made his way upstairs.

His first port of call was the bathroom and, instead of the shower he had had the first time, he chose to soak in the bath, taking his time to wash his hair and soap himself up with a new bar of soap he had ordered. This soap, a Muggle brand that his mother had always liked, was a bright orange and contained none of the chemicals that made his skin dry out. He had finally found somewhere they still provided the bar form and was thrilled by it. It felt like a luxury he had lost when he had lost his Mam and made him feel like he was stronger and better. And wasn’t that what Hermione had suggested he should find? Something more?

He had found a new shampoo, one that purported to give his hair ‘more volume’ and he used that for the first time, desperately hoping it would not do what the last ‘added volume’ shampoo had done and actually _curl_ his hair. He had looked like his Mam for real then. The only thing he had taken from his Da was his hair being poker straight. Everything else was his Mam through and through. He rarely thought of her though, it was too painful. And yet, tonight, he was meeting someone who would hopefully get to know about his painful past and his awkward teenage years and his terrible adulthood and…oh dear Merlin’s saggy ball sack, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t talk about himself and…not to anyone. Well, maybe to her he could have. Until he had fucked that up too.

He stepped out of the bath and, cautiously, approached the steamed up mirror. He hoped his hair would not be curly. He was practically praying when he wiped the condensation from the mirror and took a look for the first time. His eyes widened slightly. Ok, so, not curly. But somehow he definitely had more volume in his hair. It looked slightly shorter but…wider. He realised it had got a tiny amount of wave to it and the greasiness had gone completely for the first time in his adult life. Maybe this was how his hair should always have looked, without the fumes from the Potions in his hair. It definitely looked different, natural even.

He glanced at his reflection and frowned slightly. He needed to shave and re-pluck his eyebrows again. He was definitely getting older. His eyebrows grew at an alarming rate. Thank goodness he hadn’t yet gained ear and nose hair that needed to be destroyed as well. That would add far too much time to his primping and preening. He laughed slightly to himself and lathered up his face, using a very careful and steady hand to remove the shadow on his jawline and then plucking rapidly at his eyebrows until they were as perfect as they had once been naturally.

With just a towel wrapped around his waist, he walked into the bedroom and looked in the full length mirror on the outside of his wardrobe door. His body was…presentable. His hair was a little more unruly than he was used to but he would definitely not be mistaken for a Potter, so he was mostly satisfied with the look. It suited him and really, that was what mattered.

He had made the decision earlier that he would not wear black. It was a difficult decision as it took out practically two thirds of his wardrobe choices. He had also decided he would not wear anything too Muggle and that took out approximately half of the rest of his clothing. He opened the door to the wardrobe and immediately zeroed in on the outfit he had practically known he would choose. He had never worn it before, but it felt…right. Appropriate. No, more than that, it felt like more.

A deep blue shirt that picked up on the blue-black tones of his hair was paired with a dark grey and silver pinstriped waistcoat, dark grey frock coat with silver piping on the lapels and pockets and a pair of plain dark grey trousers. He completed the outfit with a pair of Dragonhide Boots in a dark grey, a complete departure from his comfortable working boots, but expensive enough that they did not pinch as much as his Muggle dress shoes had. He felt the outfit was missing something and realised that it must be because his body was so used to him wearing a cravat or tie.

His hands were shaking as he reached to his collar and undid a single button, exposing just the tiniest edge of his scars from Nagini. Everyone knew the story but only one person had ever seen the scars after he left the hospital.

Hermione.

With a sigh, he moved to pick up his piece of parchment that would tell him where he was going and who he was going to see. The parchment remained blank and whisked him away to his destiny.


	19. Chapter 19

She had never received a letter back from him. Perhaps she should be hurt. Perhaps she had left it too long and had hurt him herself by not reaching out to check if he was ok. Or perhaps, and she felt this was more likely, he just didn’t know what to say to her and had decided that ignoring her was a better option. She was ok with that. She would have to be ok with that. She could not find more with someone who offered her less than everything. That wasn’t how it worked.

And so, on the night of her last Ministry approved date, when she would either meet her new husband or meet the last of the rejects before she was assigned someone completely insane if the Ministry’s previous choices were anything to go by, Hermione Granger was determined to make herself look as perfectly, wonderfully her as she could. She left work early, for only the second time in her entire working career and made her way home quickly. This time she was not leaving early to visit St Mungo’s after her friend had had an accident and ended up impaling himself on a splintered broomstick. This time she was going home.

Her flat was quiet and she was grateful for the peace as she moved to the bathroom and started the water running. The bath was set to always be at the perfect temperature and she scattered some bath salts into the water, the scent of jasmine subtle in the warm air of the bathroom. She glanced in the mirror and glared at her hair. She had purchased a new shampoo that would, apparently, release her curls slightly and ‘tame your tresses’. She was fairly sure she didn’t believe a word of it but she had made the decision to try it tonight anyway. After all, she had nothing to lose. And perhaps a husband to gain.

She slipped into the water, thankful it was hot and would relax her tired muscles. She cast a depilatory spell, grateful that it was as easy as it was, though she pulled a razor from the drawer unit beside her just to confirm that she had got everything she needed to. She had rather exacting standards, more so than most men, definitely more than the three partners she had previously had. She washed her hair as the water began to cool slightly, using the new shampoo in the hope it would work as advertised.

She stepped out of the bath, a towel wrapped around her and gently squeezed some of the water from her hair before she stepped in front of the mirror over the sink. She wiped the moisture away and stared at her hair. The curls were definitely relaxed, though she still looked like herself. She was infinitely grateful for that. Though she could put her hair up like she had for the Yule Ball, it took far too much time and, generally, made her feel like a doll, rather than a person. She nodded at her reflection, brushing her teeth as she checked her eyebrows and twirled her curls to make them sit just right. It didn’t always work but luck was on her side that evening and she was gratified to notice that her hair looked better than it had in a while.

She moved to the bedroom, her outfit already waiting for her outside her wardrobe. She had made the decision of what she was going to wear as soon as she had seen the destination for the date. The place in question was a pavilion and marquee in the centre of a botanical gardens. It was sure to be heated and beautifully landscaped and she rather fancied a walk through the flower beds with whomever her date was. The outfit she had chosen was perfect for walking through flowers in a heated landscaped garden. The dress was a soft periwinkle blue, a simple tea length dress with four small white pearlized buttons down the front of the bodice. The buttons were false, of course, and the dress actually undid from a zip under her left arm. The dress had a full skirt and a petticoat in a soft white the same colour as the buttons of the dress. She paired in with a white shrug and a pair of white kitten-heeled pumps with delicate straps that fastened with tiny periwinkle blue buttons. The outfit was almost 1950’s swing style and made her feel both classy and free. She had a small clutch bag and subtle make up to complete her look.

Thanks to the shampoo she felt able to wear her hair down and she took a final look in her full length mirror. She smiled softly and took a breath, reaching out for the piece of parchment that would take her to her match. She didn’t notice the name on the parchment. Perhaps if she had, she would never have gone on the date the Ministry had appointed her.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't be mad at me... <3

She landed outside the marquee and stumbled, nearly knocking into someone else who had just arrived. She felt his hand grip her elbow and instantly knew who it was. She would recognise his fingers anywhere. She would recognise him anywhere. She pulled away and smoothed her dress down, turning to look at him. He looked incredible, amazing, wonderful, fantastic, perfect, more…

“Thank you Mr Snape.” She offered him a half smile and walked towards the marquee, refusing to look back, even when she could have sworn she heard him say her name.

“Hermione.” He watched her leave and enter the marquee and he felt a tightness in his chest. She was so…perfect. He wasn’t sure he wanted this date to go well or to go badly. He wasn’t even sure he wanted her date to go well. He didn’t know what he wanted, not at all. He squared his shoulders, walking into the marquee and spotted her sitting alone. He wondered if, perhaps, he would be lucky enough to be her date but, as he walked towards her table he found himself spun around and facing an empty table glowing with a faint white light.

Obviously, this final date was to be slightly different. He was to be told where to sit and would have to just wait for his date. He moved to the table and sat, watching the people entering the room. He hoped his date would arrive soon, just so that he did not have to worry about Hermione Granger any longer. He was hoping he could ignore her if he had someone else to think about.

“Hello Severus.” He looked up into a face that looked so much like his past it hurt. The pale creamy flesh, flecked with tiny brown freckles over her nose and cheeks, the blue eyes as dark as the night sky and filled with just as many sparkling notes and stars, the perfect coppery-red waves that became curly at the bottom…she was beautiful, she was stunning. He stood from his seat immediately and bowed moving to pull her seat out for her. She giggled slightly and the voice sounded slightly too deep for her in that moment. He waited for her to sit and noticed the slight shimmer of something not quite right about his date. He couldn’t place his finger on it and so he shook the feeling off, determined that tonight’s date would be his best yet. He took his seat and realised that, somehow, he had gotten turned around and was now able to see Hermione Granger waiting for her date. A tiny frown creased his brow and he determinedly looked back at his date, his forehead smoothing out as he lost all the thoughts that had caused him to worry.

“I believe you have me at a disadvantage, Miss. You know my name, but I am quite, quite sure I would remember meeting a woman who looked like you.” His throat felt dry and gravelly and it showed in his voice. He reached for a glass of ice cold water and took a sip, smiling at the woman in front of him.

“Oh, Severus, everyone knows who you are. Hero of the Wizarding World, Saviour to the Boy Who Lived. Of course, I know you. My name is Sohalia. Sohalia Silverwing.” Her voice once again sounded wrong and he realised he detected an accent, something soft and melodious, but an accent nonetheless.

“Sohalia, please, tell me something about yourself. I want to know everything about you.” He felt strange, as if he were hanging on her every word. As if, whatever she said would be the most important thing he had ever heard.

“Oh, you are sweet. Well, I spent my formative years in Italy with my Mother. My father was a British wizard who fell in love with her for her beauty, but he already had a family back here and did not want another one…”

“No!” He heard the exclamation but felt it was far less important than whatever Sohalia had to say.

“Mother and I were happy and, as an only child, she was able to give me everything I needed and wanted. She offered to let me study at any school I wanted, and I chose Beaubatons. Perhaps not my smartest choice, I’ll grant you, but I did well and enjoyed my time there. I was offered several Apprenticeships but, well, it never happened because I chose instead to move to England. I moved here trying to find my father…”

“No! No, you don’t understand, I can’t do this!” Sohalia turned and looked at the woman who was making such a ruckus and tossed her head. Her hair seemed to move independently, and he frowned again. Who _was_ making that noise and distracting his beautiful date? He turned to follow her gaze and realised that the noise was coming from Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor Princess.

Wait. That wasn’t right. Hermione Granger meant more to him than just her honorific. Didn’t she? Hadn’t they…? He shook his head, his mind feeling fuzzy and then Sohalia turned back round and he forgot what he had been worried about.

“Some people have no manners. Where was I? Oh yes, so I came to England to find my father but…well, you’d had that nasty War and he was one of the casualties of it apparently.” Severus nodded sagely, his face apologetic. He hoped her father had been on the right side of the War but, she didn’t look like anyone he could think of. She must look like her mother. He smiled at her again and she flicked her hair. There was definitely something strange going on there. Her hair didn’t move quite right.

“Please, please, don’t make me stay. There must be…oh god…oh Merlin, please…someone help me! Anyone!” The woman making so much noise was near hysterical. He could see her trembling for here, her eyes filled with tears, her face tinged green as she stared in horror at her date. The poor man just looked confused. Severus vaguely recognised him too but it took him a moment too long.

“That girl is being ridiculous! Can someone please shut her up?” Sohalia’s voice broke through his musings and he looked at her as she practically growled. There was definitely something a little strange about Sohalia Silverwing. He still couldn’t put his finger on it until he looked into her eyes. They were grey. When had they become grey? He glanced away and looked again and noticed that her eyebrows were not coppery-red. And her eyes were still grey. His head hurt. Something felt wrong.

“Please…oh god…please…someone…anyone…Severus? Please…please look at me. Please help me…” Hermione. His Hermione needed him. He slammed his Occlumency shields up, trying desperately to block thoughts of her from his head and glanced at Sohalia. Except…Sohalia Silverwing was not the same, sitting in front of him now. Her long coppery-red hair was a dirty blonde. Her stunning eyes that had once been the blue of the night sky, were grey and milky looking. Her flawless, creamy skin with the smattering of freckles was dull and lifeless looking.

“Hermione…Hermione!” He shook his head to clear it and watched with horror as Sohalia’s glamours fell away. Her teeth elongated and he pulled away from the lunging crazed vampire at the exact moment Hermione was finally able to move from the table where she had been trapped opposite Antonin Dolohov. She ran past him, out of the marquee and into the gardens and Severus stared at Sohalia for a split second before he shook his head to clear it and ran, chasing after Hermione Granger as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.


	21. Chapter 21

“Hermione? Hermione?” He called out to her, desperate to find her. He needed to find her, to find out what was going on, to talk to her. He had seen the scars that Dolohov had left and, though the man had been through the Obliviscaris Maximus and Memento Meivia treatment in order to get out of Azkaban, Severus knew that the way he looked could be enough to provoke a panic reaction in Hermione. He knew it could because that was exactly what had happened and the Ministry’s strange charm that had held her in place could only have made it worse. He stopped still, holding his wand flat on his palm and whispered a spell, her spell, the compass spell that had helped him so much during the War when he had been desperate to avoid certain people.

“Point Me.” The wand spun loosely in his hand and he wondered, briefly, if she had fled to her home, so desperate to get away but, thankfully, logic had not come into her decision making and his wand finally pointed to a white painted wooden gazebo a short way from where he stood. He took a breath, hoping that she would not curse him before he had the chance to get close enough to help her. He walked forwards and saw her, curled in a ball under the seats, her wand in her hand.

“Hermione? Hermione can you hear me? It’s Severus. It’s just Severus. Can I come and sit in the gazebo with you? It looks like it is going to rain.” He didn’t know what the right thing to say was but this seemed to work well enough when Draco’s panic attacks had taken place in the past. First, confirm the person you are looking for, then confirm who he was and that he was alone and then, finally, ask permission to be with the person having the panic attack.

“S-S-Severus? I…please…” The sentence fragments were enough and he ascended the stairs into the gazebo, sitting on one of the benches, still in her view but not too close, away from the door in case she began to feel threatened and needed to leave. He watched her, just waiting for her to move and could have cheered or wept when she crawled from the space under the bench and moved to sit next to him, resting her head on his shoulder and curling in close.

“Are you ok Hermione?” He knew it was a stupid thing to ask but it was the only way he could get her to speak to him, or so he assumed.

“You make me feel safe. He…I know he isn’t him. I _know_ he isn’t the same, but he still looks the same and he still sounds the same and he still smells the same. I can’t…I couldn’t stay but the Ministry wards wouldn’t let me leave.” Hermione shivered next to him and, without a thought, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her close. He turned to look at her and she gave him a watery, shaky smile. He wanted to say something, anything, to comfort her and help her, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Severus, what do I do now? The Ministry are going to find me someone and it could be anyone and…oh Severus, what do I do?” She looked at him, her eyes still damp and her breath hitching, and he looked back at her. Something shifted in the air and her eyes flickered to his lips. With a sigh, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, her hand against his shirt, not pulling him closer or pushing him away, just holding him steady. She sighed against his lips and pulled away.

“I’m sorry, Severus, I just…why couldn’t it be you?” She looked at him, her eyes imploring him and he knew he had to respond but, for a man with an above average intelligence, he suddenly felt very stupid as he had no words for her. No words except…

“Hermione.” He leaned forwards, his lips finding hers and he held her gently, kissing her lips and tracing them with her tongue. He deepened the kiss, hearing her first soft noises that he loved so much and hoped she wouldn’t hate him too much when he pulled away. She moaned with frustration and he chuckled softly.

“Hermione…we need to talk. Take me home Hermione. We need to talk.”


	22. Chapter 22

She had apparated them together directly onto her sofa. He knew it was her sofa because they bounced slightly and then sunk into the cushions. She kicked her shoes off and pulled her legs up underneath her, reaching a hand to hold his. She smiled at him encouragingly, turned to face him and he wondered where to start. He blinked, taking a breath, and nodded slightly.

“Hermione, I want you to know that I do not regret anything that happened between us. It was one of the single most wonderful experiences in my life. It was also…wrong. I gave you expectations that I cannot live up to. I don’t want you to feel like you have to propose to me or that I should propose to you. This…situation between us is complicated and I really don’t want to complicate things further. There are some things I need to tell you but first, I want to ask you, what are you hoping for from this Marriage Law?” He looked at her, trying to push his hopes and dreams and wishes behind his Occlumency shields just in case she disappointed him.

“To be truly honest, Severus, I never wanted this Marriage Law. I don’t want children, I don’t want to tie my life to someone who is going to control me, I don’t want to give up my job. I would like a companion, someone to spend time with during the evenings. I’d like someone I can talk to about my day, who will listen to my complaints and who will talk to me about their day too. I want someone who will care for me, who will eat Chinese when neither of us can be bothered to cook, who will cook for me on my birthday, who will cook with me on other days. I want someone who is tidy, or at the very least, who isn’t so messy that I have to clean all the time when I am home. I want someone who will love me as I am, on my bad days when my hair is a mess and I’m moody and need chocolate, on my good days when I can do a hundred things to make him happy. I want someone who makes my life more, who improves what I have made for myself…What do you want, Severus?” She looked so innocent in that moment and he knew that this was make or break time.

“Hermione, I can’t promise to give you everything I need. I…I am demisexual. It means I…”

“You don’t want or have sex unless you feel an emotional connection with someone first…oh…oh _that’s_ why you ran out of here…oh…” She looked at him, tears in her eyes and he knew that he had hurt her with his confession.

“Yes…and no. I told you before I do not regret what happened between us. What I do regret is that it happened when it did. I had started to like you, even started to care but I wasn’t quite there yet. The body…the body is just a man. I wanted it. I did. Just…not as much as I wanted to want it. I can’t promise that I will ever want it as much as a…normal person does…” He trailed off as she squeezed his hand.

“You _are_ normal Severus. What is normal for you is still normal, regardless of if it is what is _average_. Severus, a relationship, even a marriage, should not be built on sex. Do I want sex? Sure, sometimes. Do I enjoy sex with you? Merlin, yes. Do I expect it monthly, weekly, daily? No. Severus, sex is probably one of the least important things in a relationship as far as I am concerned. If I end up having to learn vibration spells and own some sort of rechargeable silicone then I have to learn them. I’m not opposed to learning and it isn’t much different to what I do now anyway.” She laughed softly and he was thankful for her candour.

“I want a marriage that means I can be me. I don’t want to give up my work. I don’t want to give up my space. I am a private person and I need my space and time away from people. I become very agitated and angry without my space. But I do also like the company, someone to cook for sounds lovely, someone to cook with sounds even nicer. I don’t even mind cuddling all night…I just don’t want cuddling to lead to…other things.” He looked at her, his eyes faintly misty and she smiled softly, shifting to lean closer against him.

“That being said then…Severus Snape, will you marry me?”


	23. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end. Thank you all so so much for following me on this journey. I hope you have had as much fun as I have had writing this (even though it has been several sleepless nights).
> 
> And now some more specific thank yous:  
> To LunaP999 who drew my artwork for me and made me feel like I may have actually done some good work and have made it as an author.  
> To all the H&C sprinters who have got me through this and haven't even complained about my 2 hour sprints.  
> To Turtle, who I told the matches to and did not yell at me and tell me to write ANYTHING else.  
> To Emie and Mom, who told me to sleep.  
> To everyone who has read this and commented...a huge HUGE thank you and a ton of love.

The bridesmaids wore teal, a deep blue-green with white sashes, a similar style to the dress Hermione had worn on the last date set out by the Ministry of Magic. The white and orange charmed flowers provided the perfect contrast, and everyone said the bride looked radiant. He watched Hermione walk down the aisle and smiled, he only had eyes for her. She was stunning.

She moved to one side, the Y-shaped aisles now scattered with white rose petals and moonstone glitter and she glanced at him, smiling softly as the brides walked up the aisles on their father’s arms, Xenophilius Lovegood and Arthur Weasley wearing small proud smiles as they joined their daughter’s hands together in front of the Officiant of the Ministry who would perform their wedding. Hermione smiled at him and Severus took her hand in his, squeezing gently.

They danced together that night and he thought he heard Hermione ask him, very quietly, what colour he would wear at their wedding. He chuckled softly and made sure that she forgot everything about weddings that night.

***

The suit he wore was black, the shirt white and crisp, the cravat a deep plum that matched the bridesmaids. The box in his pocket felt heavy and he was glad of the belt he had managed to conceal to hold his trousers up.

“Do you have the rings?” The Officiant spoke softly, and he nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the black velvet box. He flicked the lid open and held the box out, glancing down at the heavy rings there. The groom plucked the gaudy yellow gold ring with an Emerald the size of a very large scarab beetle, and twice as ugly, from the box and slid it onto the finger of the peroxide blonde bride. The bride pulled an equally gaudy ring from the box, this one topped with a deep purple Amethyst in the shape of a heart and slid it onto her groom’s finger.

“May I present, your bride and groom, Gilderoy and Rita Lockhart-Skeeter!” The Officiant looked nauseated as the two began to kiss passionately and an awkward round of applause filled the brightly decorated hall, the greens, purples and blues a cacophony of peacock feathers, ribbon, magically dyed flowers and lace.

Severus’s eyes sought his fiancée’s and he smiled at her softly. Thank Merlin the Marriage Law had been repealed. Now he could happily be engaged to a woman he loved and, he hoped, would never be forced to marry. They had found happiness in the best place of all. Right under the Ministry’s watchful gaze.


End file.
